Number Six Privet Drive
by Pegasus-Dragon
Summary: We all know what magic goes on behind the door of Number four Privet Drive, but what about number six? With Merlin as Harry's neighbour and a few years older than him, how will it change the adventure we all know and love? So find out what happens with the Merlin gang reincarnated and at Hogwarts! (Will eventually contain Merthur and probably stick to cannon with other ships)
1. Rules and Letters

**Edit: All of the following edits are made and posted with chapter 8.** **For anyone not reading this for the first time, there has been very few changes in the edit. A few things have been re-worded and a couple of extra paragraphs added in, but not much else.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 1 - Rules and Letters  
**

Mr and Mrs King, of number six Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Cenred King was not a very pleasant man, and his wife Morgause was even worse (not that anybody knew). They were not the sort of people you would entrust with taking care of a child, and yet they had one. Well, two, technically, but they hardly counted Merlin as _their_ child. No, they had their precious Mordred to dote on; Merlin was more like the help. And had been treated as such since he was of an age where he was able to fetch and carry.

You see, Merlin was not their son. No, he was their nephew, the son of Cenred's older brother Balinor and his whore wife. Freaks, the pair of them, according to Cenred, just like the rest of his family. And once they had both died and that pointless war, just like the rest of his family, they left him to care for some snotty-nosed child instead of focusing all of his attention on his beloved Mordred.

Cenred was born a squib into a wizard family, and while his brother, the _golden son_ , had gone off to some magic school, he had gone to high school. He had been normal, and he was very proud of that fact. So the second he turned eighteen he left that _freak show_ and took his muggleborn mother's maiden name, determined to make a life of his own outside of the insanity that was his family.

That had been the plan, and it had been going exceptionally well, until his brother had up and died and left him with that _brat_.

Cenred had known from the moment he'd laid eyes on the boy, three years old with those giant ears and watery eyes, that he would be just like his father. Magical. And a plague to him and his family. He didn't want his wonderful wife and his darling boy to be corrupted by the likes of _that_. No, but the woman had insisted . . .

 _"You're the only family the child has left,"_ _she said to him firmly, "sending a child like him into the care system is a recipe for disaster, you must take him in." She had her hair tied in a strict bun and a look on her face that said she wasn't used to being told no. She pushed her glasses up her nose and her lips thinned when he remained silent. "Mr Emrys -"_

 _"King." He had corrected quickly with a snarl. "Mr King."_

 _She sighed exasperatedly at him but complied anyway. "Mr King, the boy is your nephew; he has no one else left in the world that might care for him. Please, consider this."_

 _He looked down at the boy in question, who had been staring at the two adults arguing with wide, watery, blue eyes. He had a look of confusion on his face, like he didn't understand why his parents were gone, or why the woman was trying to leave him with a man who clearly didn't want him. He looked scared, terrified really, and that was what sealed the deal in Cenred's mind._

 _This was his chance. His chance to pay back his brother and father for always making his feel like the outsider. He'd take in the brat and he'd teach him what it meant to live on the outside. He would make the boy regret the day he ever saw Cenred's face._

 _Cenred had smiled viciously and accepted the boy. The woman seemed satisfied and the boy seemed scared._

 _Good, he had thought savagely._

A part of Cenred regretted his decision, while yes, it was fun making his brother's brat squirm, the magic was becoming a real nuisance. He had wanted magic out of his life for good, and in one revenge-driven moment he had forgotten that fact in favour of punishing his dead brother and his hapless spawn.

So when the letter came he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or furious.

Yes, Mr and Mrs King, of number six, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Their nephew, however . . . not so much.

* * *

Merlin had composed himself a few rules throughout his life. They had developed slowly over the years and they varied in importance. But all of them were key to life with his uncle, aunt and cousin.

Number one: don't rise to Mordred's bait. This probably was the most important rule he had. It was also one of the first rules he learnt. His cousin was three years younger than him, but that didn't stop him from being a bully. Oh no, Mordred was just as skinny and awkward as Merlin was, it wasn't like he was tougher or bigger or anything of the sort, but this was _his_ house and _his_ family, so Merlin was the weaker one in every situation. That meant that when Mordred said something that might rile Merlin up, he wasn't to react to it. It would only end in disaster.

The first time Merlin recalled when he should've used his rule was when he was seven years old. They were supposed to be going out to have a family dinner. So Morgause had worn a nice dress and her golden hair was done up in a classy way. Cenred was in a suit and Mordred had some new clothes that his mother had bought him earlier that week for the occasion. Merlin had been excited to go, usually they didn't like to take him with them places, especially fancy ones, but Mordred had said to him it was a _family_ dinner, of course he was going. He was so pleased. Merlin wasn't used to feeling like a part of the family. This felt like a turning point, like maybe he had finally done something right and they were going to welcome him. So Merlin had worn his nicest clothes (they really weren't that nice) and bounded down the stairs with a beaming grin on his face. Morgause had laughed when he told her that he thought he was going with them. And then Mordred had then said, in front of them all, _"It's a_ family _dinner, Merlin, of course you aren't coming."_ Merlin had cried until the lights in the house started flickering. He didn't mean to cry, he knew it made him seem like a child, and he wasn't anymore, but he couldn't stop. He had gotten his hopes up and watched them be quashed in front of him. So he cried.

The result of Merlin's mistake led on to the making of his second rule.

Number two: always duck. Now this rule didn't have 100% efficiency. Sometimes it wasn't an arm swinging at him that he could duck under, but a foot instead. Nonetheless it worked in most cases.

Merlin had always been a clumsy person. He dropped, spilt and broke a lot of things. None of it was ever on purpose but it always came with repercussions. If it was in front of Morgause it was more likely to be a slap across his cheek or the back of the head for whatever he did wrong. If it was Cenred then he would use whatever body part closest to Merlin, whether that be a fist to the stomach, and elbow to the ribs or a kick up the backside. Merlin tried to duck or dodge when he could, but his fighting reflexes were never any good. The only time Merlin would abandon is second rule was if Cenred was drunk. He had learned that in that case it was better to just curl up and take it, dodging only made him angrier.

Number three: always apologise. This was another important rule. If rule number three worked then it could sometimes negate the necessity of rule number two. Anything that makes anyone look angry, apologise for it, even if you aren't sure what you did wrong. It didn't always work for Merlin but it had enough of a success rate to be worth making it to the list.

Number four: don't get caught talking to Harry. Merlin wasn't really sure why this needed to be a rule. He had no idea why Cenred and Mr Dursley both hated the idea of them talking to each other but they did.

Harry was two years younger than Merlin but they were very similar. Both of them were orphans dumped onto horrid relatives. But Merlin, at least, had some memory of his Mum and Dad, Harry wasn't as lucky. From what Merlin could tell, Harry wasn't physically hurt by his uncle and aunt, but there were bullies at school who were mean to him. They went to the same school, but neither could look to the other as a friend there, they both knew that their cousins could report back to their homes and they would both be landed in trouble. Merlin hated that the one boy who might understand him was kept away from him, but he rarely had the courage to go against his uncle's rule and talk to Harry. They were almost always caught. And afterwards his uncle may as well have been drunk by the way he acted towards Merlin.

There were many more rules, but those were the most important four, those were the ones that kept Merlin relatively unharmed from day to day.

And so, when a new day began, he had all of his rules in his head, ready to put into practice should the need arise. And of course it did. It always did.

He was just bringing Cenred his beer in the early afternoon, nothing unusual. Except that there was a bright, white, snowy owl sat on their fence outside. Merlin was foolish and easily distracted, so upon seeing this owl he stopped looking where he was walking, and walked straight into Cenred's back, sloshing beer over both of them. Merlin realised his mistake right away.

"I'm sorry!" he cried instantly (rule no. three). He ran to get a cloth to mop up the mess on the floor, immediately forgetting about the spillage on his own clothes. "I'll clean it up right away," he would have tried to mop up Cenred too if it wasn't for another one of his rules that he'd learnt the hard way, never touch Cenred (rule no. fourteen). "I'll clean it all, I'm sor-"

This was when Cenred kicked Merlin in the ribs, as he was crouched over, trying to clean. He grunted at the pain but knew better than to complain (rule no. nine). "Useless boy," Cenred muttered, as he aimed another harsh kick to the stomach. Merlin cried out at that one, but he made sure no words were spoken other than a litany of 'I'm sorry's.

"Really, Merlin, can't you do anything?" Mordred goaded, a pleased grin present on his face. Merlin took a deep breath before remaining quiet and carrying on with his task. The deep breath was both to help him ignore Mordred (rule no. one) and help him breathe through the pain in his chest and stomach.

 _Some eleventh birthday_ , Merlin thought, bitterly. He didn't know why he'd expected anything different. And besides, any attention he would get from his 'family' for his birthday wouldn't be positive attention. It was better for the day to be ignored and treated like any other; it wasn't like anything important would happen today.

"Finish cleaning this up and then go get the post," Cenred ordered. "See if you can manage that, at least, without making a mess of everything." Mordred snorted and Morgause smirked at his expense as Cenred left to change out of his ruined clothes.

He moved towards the front door to collect the small gathering of letters that were there, his hand pressed against his stomach once he's out of sight, ignoring his own beer stained clothes. When he looked back up, hoping to see the pretty owl again, it had already flown off. The letters looked to be the usual set of bills, all in plain white envelopes, all addressed to Cenred or Morgause, all except one. It was heavier than the others, and a brownish-yellow colour, rather than white. The most shocking thing, however, was that it was addressed to _him_.

 _Mr M. Emrys,_

 _The attic bedroom,_

 _6, Privet Drive,_

 _Little Whinging,_

 _Surrey._

How on earth did the sender know which bedroom he used? When he turned the letter over there was an insignia of a lion, snake, eagle and badger all decoratively surrounding the letter 'H', and a name, _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. Finally, it was topped off with a red wax seal of the same letter 'H'.

He moved slowly back into the living room, careful to watch where he was going this time, but still mesmerised by his very first letter.

It was finally happening! He was finally going to go away and learn magic! Just like his parents had done! Merlin had very few memories before the night his parents died, but almost all of them involved two kind looking people talking or laughing with him and waving around sticks. Eventually Merlin had done enough accidental magic to realise what it all was, and that what his parents must have had were magic wands. He couldn't wait to get his own and start learning properly. This was it! It was time!

With so little knowledge about his parents, Merlin was ecstatic to have this. It was a gift that he could share with them that wasn't tainted by anyone else. He knew that he shared their blood, and from what he remembered he has the same dark hair as both of them. But Cenred also had dark hair and Mordred too. All the traits he shared with his parents he shared with _them_ too. But not magic. The magic was his, and Cenred couldn't touch it.

That was why when he walked into the living room it was with a beaming smile on his face, all eyes turned to him. Mordred and Morgause looked uneasily at each other, wondering what could have caused such happiness in the boy whose life the tried there hardest to make miserable. Cenred, however, knew exactly what was going on. He had seen that envelop before, and, at one delusional point in his life, even wished for one with his name on it. Merlin was going to Hogwarts. He would finally be rid of the brat for most of the year.

"Off to your magic school then?" Cenred asked casually, pulling a jumper over his head.

Merlin jumped at the voice, off in a world of his own, he'd forgotten where he was. The bright smile that had been on his face melted off entirely. He knew his uncle hated his magic, so how on earth could he sound so calm about Merlin's acceptance letter? Merlin swallowed nervously and answered, "Yes, sir."

Cenred grunted and nodded. "So when are they showing up to take you for your supplies, 'cause none of us can or will?"

Merlin still had wide frightened eyes. He was waiting for the penny to drop, to be told he wasn't allowed to go or that now once he started school he wasn't ever allowed back. He wasn't expecting genuine questions. "I- I um, I don't know, sir," he responded quietly, "I haven't opened it yet." Cenred glowered at him. "Sir!" he added hastily. "I haven't opened it yet, _sir_."

He nodded stiffly, "Well then," he said stoically, "tell us before one of those freaks actually show up, I don't want to be caught unawares."

"Yes, sir," Merlin whispered quietly before holding his breath as he turned to walk upstairs to his room, he knew a dismissal when he heard one. Merlin didn't let out that breath until he was safely tucked away in the attic.

As he ascended to his room his mind ran over the conversation that just happened. That was not at all the reaction he had been expecting. For the first time he could remember, Cenred had been calm and reasonable in the face of magic. It was almost unthinkable. Even from the attic he could now hear Cenred's low tone arguing with Morgause's shrill one. It was rare to even hear them argue; usually they were both as bad as each other, so no argument needed. But now, it almost seemed as though Cenred was fighting his corner. How bizarre. If that was happening then magic really must exist.

And speaking of magic, Merlin finally opened his letter.

* * *

He was terrified. One of the Hogwarts professors was going to show up any minute and Cenred was already in a bad mood. After Merlin had told him what day the professor was supposed to arrive, his mood just steadily got worse and worse throughout the week. Now they were coming and he didn't know what to do.

"What do you think you're doing, waiting by the door?" Cenred snapped at him. Had he forgotten? Oh no, if he had forgotten then his reaction was just going to be ten times worse than Merlin had prepared himself for.

"Th- the professor's supposed t- to arrive soon," he stuttered nervously.

"Right," he said simply, with narrowed eyes. He turned around and walked into the living room, ignoring Merlin for now.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. When it came to magic, Cenred was usually irrational and angry with even the slightest mention, this sudden flip in behaviour, from madness to indifference, was really confusing him. Merlin wasn't sure whether to be grateful or on edge; as if this was the build up to the big explosion. The calm before the storm.

There was no point trying to figure out what was going on in Cenred's brain, Merlin had been trying for years with absolutely no success. Just when he thought he knew how vile and vicious his uncle really was, something would happen to surprise him (in most cases they were rarely _good_ surprises, which was what made this particular case so odd).

That was when the knock came.

Merlin jumped up so fast that one would think he had been kicked up the backside. He hadn't (for a change). He just stood there staring in shock at the door for a few moments - this was it, he was finally going to meet someone else who had magic, for the first time since he was left with his uncle (it's not as if there was anyone else in Little Whinging who could ever have magic), and he couldn't wait - and then he realised it would probably be polite to actually _answer_ the door instead of staring at as if it would open by magic (he couldn't wait until he could actually do that with magic!).

Standing in the doorway was a tall woman with greying hair tied back into an elegant bun. She had a very stiff posture and had her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She had on square glasses and weird-looking, green sort of dress (robes maybe?). Either way, it was obvious that she was a strict woman and not someone to be trifled with.

"Hello, miss," he said timidly.

What had been a blank expression lifted into a kind smile as she said, "Hello, Mr Emrys, I presume?" The smile complete changed her appearance. As before she looked like a stern professor, she then changed into a caring mother-figure. Just from a smile.

"Y- Yes," he answered. "Come in," he added hurriedly, shuffling out of her way, he didn't want to make a bad first impression.

"Thank you," she said as she stepped over the threshold. "Are your uncle and aunt here?"

"They . . . They're in the living room," he answered reluctantly, he didn't want any of them to ruin this for him. "First door on your left," he directed, and she walked ahead.

When he followed into the living room, it was an awkward sight that greeted him. Mordred was sat on the settee, starring, with a biscuit in his hand which was half way between the packet and his agape mouth. Morgause was sneering at the lady, probably on account of her wardrobe mostly. And Cenred was staring directly at the television, pretending as if there wasn't a single other person in the room. The professor took in all of these varying reactions rather calmly, her only visible response being the arching of a single eyebrow.

"Right," she said, snapping Mordred out of his shock and forcing an obviously fake smile onto Morgause's face. She turned to Cenred, "Pleasure to see you again Mr _King_." Merlin had no idea why she put emphasis on his surname, but he did notice that her voice as dripping with sarcasm.

The direct address finally forced Cenred to acknowledge her presence in his house. He scowled. "Professor McGonagall," he nodded casually in her direction. The shock that he remembered her name was clear to see on Professor McGonagall's face.

"You've met before?" Merlin asked in confusion. He knew his uncle used to be part of a wizarding family, but he was still surprised that he hadn't eradicated any memory he had of it.

"Yes, I remember the woman who ruined my life," Cenred said coolly. McGonagall looked as if she was about to protest, but before she could say anything Cenred cut across her. "She's the one who brought you here," he told Merlin.

The boy looked down and just nodded stiffly. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. Usually Cenred was drunk before he started spouting about how Merlin was the worst thing to ever happen to his family, how all he had wanted was a normal life and that thanks to him it was all ruined. He was six years old when he was first told that nobody wanted him there. So hearing this now was not a surprise to Merlin, nor was it a big deal.

* * *

Minerva, however, couldn't believe it. Here was this little boy, who had been his parents' pride and joy, being told he was a burden and not wanted. And the worst part was that he accepted it like it was nothing. She, too, was now starting to regret the day she ever brought Merlin to live with this man.

She could still remember now how shocked and relieved Balinor and Hunith were to have their little boy. They had been almost certain that they couldn't conceive and had even looked into some muggle methods where magic had failed them. And after four years of trying they were shocked to finally find Hunith pregnant, no matter how scared they were with the war going on.

She had even met Merlin once or twice when he was small. He had always been a boisterous child, very loud but very happy. He had always been laughing back then. She wondered what had happened to that beaming grin that she remembered from all those years ago. And she hoped it wasn't gone forever.

The boy noticed her staring at him. His eyes widened, afraid, as if he had he done something wrong. It just broke he heart further, that now she was the one hurting the boy. "I'm sorry," he apologised to her quickly as he looked down shamefully. "Whatever I did, I didn't mean to."

She was certain she looked comical as her eyes widened in shock at his apology. What on Earth was he apologising for?

Minerva had never been so heartbroken. In what way had he been treated here if he was mistaking her pity for blame? It was as if the boy had never encountered the emotion before.

"Shall we get this over and done with then?" Cenred asked, acting oblivious to the furious gaze Minerva was shooting him. "I'd rather have this finished quickly," he told her, "you're interrupting our afternoon."

"Right," she said her voice carefully controlled, keeping her anger in check. It would not do to turn the man into the pig he acted like. As she sat on the settee she swiped her skirt from underneath her and placed her hands, folded, on her lap. Even while sitting, her posture was ram-rod straight.

"Well in most cases with a half blood wizard there would be no need for a member of faculty to make a visit. However, this is an extreme case, since you're left with relatives with _no magical talent_ ," she glared at Cenred as she said this, well aware of his childhood wish to have gone to Hogwarts with his brother. The man clenched his fists subconsciously and she smirked. She turned back to Merlin, "I will be apperating us to Diagon Alley, where you can buy your school supplies and even a pet, if you wish," she said with a small (and hopefully reassuring) smile.

As soon as she had mentioned school supplies the boy's face had lit up. He looked so excited at the prospect of getting ready for Hogwarts. She finally saw a true glimpse of Balinor and Hunith's boy, behind all the fear and trepidation.

"That all sounds amazing," he said breathlessly. "But, I . . . I don't have any money to spend. And I couldn't ask my uncle to -"

"Damn right you couldn't" Cenred interrupted. "You'll not get a dime off me."

"Well then it's a good thing that he won't be _needing_ your money, isn't it, Mr King."

"I- I won't?" Merlin asked hesitantly, not quite believing her.

"No," she said resolutely. "Both your grandparents and parents died in the war," she said, pretending not to notice his wince at the mention, "With your uncle making no claim to any of the wizarding money left behind, you are the sole inheritor. As most pureblood families are rather wealthy and your grandfather was from an old line, you have a small fortune to your name."

Merlin gaped, no way was this true. All this time he had been given old clothes and next to nothing, when in reality he had the inheritance money from a wealthy family that he could have been spending. It was almost impossible to believe. "Oh," he summed up eloquently.

"Yes, 'oh'." She got up and dusted off her skirt. "I'm assuming none of you would like to join us?" she directed towards the Kings. "No? Well, goodbye then," she said, before receiving any sort of answer.

As she moved towards Merlin to grab his hand and apperate them, she noticed his entire body tense as he flinched away from her touch, practically ducking.

And it was in that singular moment that Minerva McGonagall regretted the day she ever saw the face of Cenred King.


	2. Aithusa

**For the clh Guest reviewer: I wanted to thank you for your review, even though you had a problem with the story you were polite in your opinion and expressed some good points. I don't know if you'll check to see a response to your review, but either way, I wanted to explain for anyone else who might have a problem with Cenred, Morgause and Mordred being OOC. Yes, I wanted Merlin to have a tragic backstory so i gave him a life without Hunith. I wanted his story similar to Harry's with the Dursleys because I wanted those parallels in the characters. So yes, Morgause and Cenred are OOC, but that is because I needed some of our classic villains to take the roles of Merlin's family, and since they would not be playing a major part in the story I didn't think people would be too against it (evidently I was wrong). And as for Mordred, as you mentioned, he's being brought up to be a bully, but I have more than that planned for his character because, no that's not who he really is. If you read this I hope you give the story another chance.**

 **For the other guest reviewer: I never really considered Harry/Merlin/Arthur, and while it's an interesting ship, I've never been one for polyamourous relationships in fanfictions.**

 **And thank you _blue-analytic_ for the interest!**

 **For anyone still reading, please enjoy!**

 **Edit: Again, for any old readers there are minimal changes, nothing major has been taken out, added, or majorly re-written.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 2 - Aithusa  
**

Diagon Alley, Merlin decided, was incredible! It was so colourful and loud. All the window displays were bright and even _moving_ sometimes. And best of all, it was full of magic. He was just surrounded by people like him, and it was brilliant.

The expression on his face must have been something stupid because he heard professor McGonagall chuckle from next to him. He shut his mouth quickly, realising that he had been gawping at it all.

"It's quite impressive isn't it?" she asked good-naturedly. All he could do was nod dumbly, there were no words that could describe the wonder he was seeing. "Well if this is your reaction to Diagon Alley, I can't wait to see your reaction to Hogwarts itself."

"It can't be better than this," he said with certainty, "it's not possible."

She didn't say anything in reply so he went back to staring wide-eyed at anything magical. Things as simple as people walking around carrying their wands as if it wasn't anything to be ashamed of was enough for Merlin to marvel at. But there was so much here, a whole other world that he could have already been a part of - _should_ have already been a part of.

"Come on," she said startling him out of his thoughts, "we've looked around enough, we need to start shopping. I believe if I wait for you to finish gawking before we get started then we'll be here all day, and night, probably."

"Well I wouldn't mind staying here forever, it's far better than home!" he said in excitement. Far too excited to notice flash of guilt and pity that crossed Professor McGonagall's face.

"Come on then." She walked briskly, almost too fast for his little legs to keep up (but Merlin wasn't _short_ for his age, she was just _very_ tall).

The first place she headed was very white. White and Gold. It was all very clean and looked to be made mostly out of marble. He looked up before they walked in and checked the sign, it said, _Gringotts Bank_. Merlin was a little nervous to go inside. It all looked too fancy for him. There was even a poem there on display.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn  
Must pay most dearly in their turn  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Well, it was a very threatening poem, but a poem nonetheless. And the kind of place that had a poem instead of a sign that warned they had CCTV was far too posh for Merlin with his raggedy clothes and scuffed up trainers. That warning was made for people who looked like him, who looked like they were poor and delinquents. He didn't belong in there.

"What are you dallying for?" she asked, clearly not pleased with his wasting time. Merlin made a mental reminder to never be late to any of her lessons once he actually started the school.

"I . . ." he hesitated. It was stupid, wasn't it? Surely they wouldn't mind his scruffy clothes. And besides, if he wanted to get himself some better ones then he would have to get the money, and that meant entering the bank. "Nothing," he said with conviction. He then gave a small nod to himself and marched on confidently behind her.

She raised an eyebrow and the sudden attitude change but said nothing to him.

From the moment he first opened the door to let her in back at Number Six Privet Drive, he felt like he was being constantly observed, and this was no different. It seemed like she was measuring him up, testing to see what he's like, what he'll be like to teach. He didn't like it. It felt like Cenred all over again, testing is boundaries, seeing how he reacts, what he does. And while she didn't actively test him to force reactions out, the observation was similar enough to make him feel on-edge.

He refused to let that show, however. No, he would keep his head held high and pretend that not a single thing about this bothered him.

It was after this concrete decision that Merlin noticed the creatures behind the counters. They had beady eyes that all seemed to follow him as he walked about the room. Their noses were long and hooked and they had pointy ears that stuck out rather obviously. Much worse than his own. It was rather difficult to convince himself that it wasn't him they were looking at, and if the professor thought that there was anything strange going on then she didn't show it.

"They're goblin's," she said under her breath, quite enough to not be overheard but loud enough for him to hear her clearly. "And they do not appreciate staring, either," she added in warning.

By this point they had reached the main desk. "Good morning," she told it (him?), "we'd like to withdraw from the Emrys vault, please."

"Key?" it asked as it lowered its glasses to properly glare at them (and yes, Merlin was definitely sticking with _it_ , for now).

McGonagall handed over a key that seemed to materialise from thin air, which it probably did, and handed it over to the Goblin. It inspected the key for a few moments before saying a curt, "Follow me."

They did, and he eventually led them to an area which looked like it was underground. There were countless tunnels all going in varying directions and they seemed to go on forever. Through each, there were some sort of tracks on the floor and right next to them were a collection of carts that the professor and the goblin were already climbing into. He clambered in after them.

When they actually started moving, Merlin thought he was going to be sick. The speed of the thing was insane; far faster than any rollercoaster, he was sure (not that he had ever been on one to compare with). And not to mention the heights, Merlin had never really thought himself scared of heights. He was wrong.

Eventually they did come to a stop, and as they climbed out the goblin started to explain. "The Emrys vault is one of the oldest that we have here, not many have ever been this deep into Gringotts. Having such an old vault means that it's very well protected." He didn't say anything more, just led them forwards.

Everyone else seemed to know what was coming. McGonagall had gone slightly pale and the goblin had a satisfied grin on his face while he watched very closely for Merlin's reaction. So when he heard the roar of a dragon, Merlin wasn't sure what to think. (And of course he didn't think, not for a second, about how he knew the roar was from a dragon when he could not even see the creature yet.)

And then, he realised that that roar was a cry for help. As soon as he heard it his head snapped up, staring shocked and accusing at the smirk on the goblin's face. It seemed to know exactly what Merlin was feeling.

"No," he whispered brokenly. It felt like a part of his soul was crying out. "No!" he shouted this time. McGonagall looked shaken at his reaction, but he didn't see it, he was too busy running ahead to where he heard the sound come from. He felt someone's hands try and grab him but he was too fast, a lifetime of running away was finally paying off.

When he entered a large circular chamber he thought he would definitely throw up this time. There was a huge white dragon. She was chained by a collar and covered in scars that shone against her once beautiful scales. And when he looked properly, Merlin saw that she was blinded and that her wings were torn in certain places. And Merlin knew that the tears in his eyes were entirely justifiable.

The creature roared at him, but it sounded pitiful, broken. He could hear the message behind it, _Help me, Emrys_. Merlin didn't know how or why he could hear beneath the dragon's roars but he knew he was the only one that could, because if anyone else in the world had heard this creature then it surely would have been freed long ago.

Merlin moved towards her and she nuzzled her snout into his chest. He was dwarfed by her. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, "I'm so sorry, but I don't know how to help you." He didn't know how anyone could be so cruel to a creature so pure and intelligent. "I can't help you now," he said through his tears, "but I _swear_ I will come back and I will help you. As soon as I am able."

That was when McGonagall and the goblin finally caught up. They walked into the chamber to see Merlin hugging the dragon through his tears.

"Merlin, get away from there!" she said, seemingly terrified. "Do something!" she shouted at the goblin.

It was regarding the situation calmly, not at all surprised by a boy cuddling with a dragon. "Step away, boy," it ordered. "This will not be pretty, and you need to be safely away." It didn't sound like it believed a single word coming out of its mouth. It knew that she wouldn't harm Merlin. Merlin just didn't know how it knew.

Merlin stroked her snout one more time before moving away and doing as he was told. He knew that the professor couldn't understand and he didn't know how to explain it to her, he didn't even understand, he just knew that he had to what he'd just done.

Once he was in reach, McGonagall grabbed him and pulled him to her side. He tried to resist the flinch when she unexpectedly reached for him, but he couldn't. She seemed too wound up and panicky to notice, anyway. "How could you do something so foolish?!" she asked frantically.

Merlin knew it was concern that led to her shouting, but that didn't stop his mind from drawing up all the connections and similarities to Cenred. And now her grip on his arm seemed far too tight. He scrunched up his eyes and tried to cut out the links his mind was making and form a reasonable explanation to tell her but all Merlin could do was whisper over and over again, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, let me go. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry." (Rule no. three.)

He felt her grip start to loosen instantly. But before she could utter a word another cry tore through the chamber. The loud roar was filled with pain and a plea, _Emrys_! She was crying out for him.

"No!" he wailed, he saw the goblin with some sort of bell, making her cower into the far end of the chamber, away from where they stood. This time, when he tried to run to her the professor kept him firmly in her arms.

"She's trained to feel pain when she hears the bell," the goblin explained to them.

"Please! You're hurting her!" he screamed. "Stop it! _Stop it, please_!" In the depths of his soul he could feel her pain and her fear. It wasn't just his own worry for her that he was feeling. Everything she felt, passed through him, also.

It didn't matter how much he screamed, the goblin ignored him as McGonagall practically dragged him across the chamber to where they needed to go. He begged her to let him go, to let him help but she wouldn't listen to the cries of a child, no matter how much pain he felt.

But Merlin couldn't take it anymore. Every emotion was rolling through him, both his and the dragon's, and eventually he just cried, "STOP!"

The bell in the goblin's had exploded.

And his eyes glowed gold.

* * *

After the Gringotts disaster Merlin was subdued, and Minerva didn't quite know what to make of it.

That was no kind of magic she had ever witnessed before. And while it was very possible, especially when in duress, for a child to perform accidental magic, this was different. The child's eyes had looked golden, and she could feel the raw power that radiated off him as soon as he had done the magic. And afterwards he had been left unnaturally drained of energy.

And this alone was odd enough without even mentioning the dragon. How the boy had gotten so attached so quickly, she would never know. But to find him cuddled with it, tears in his eyes, but completely unharmed was a miracle in and of itself. She had no idea how it had happened, and she had a feeling that the boy didn't quite know himself.

She tried to not think on his reaction to being held back, and more on his reaction to the creature being hurt. He had acted like it was him cowering in that corner, the amount of pain on his face throughout the ordeal troubled her greatly, and yet she had no idea why it was so bad for him. Minerva had always felt uneasy at the sight of the dragon chained like that, on the rare occasions she had had to see it, but never had she felt pained at the sight of it.

After the bell had exploded in the goblin's hand, Merlin had slumped in her arms, apparently content to stop protesting now that the dragon was no longer under attack. Even though the dragon was no longer being targeted, it had curled up in the far side of the chamber, clearly not wanting to risk itself now it was finally unharmed.

The goblin had been undisturbed by the exploding bell, or even the shrapnel in his hand. Instead he had just looked smugly at Merlin, with a satisfied look on his face. "It appears you truly are _Emrys_ ," he had said to the boy. McGonagall, hadn't any idea what that was supposed to mean, but was still too busy processing all that had happened to question him on it.

"Please can we just get the money and leave," Merlin had asked tiredly from where he sat, slumped, on the floor.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Minerva had said. She helped the boy up and half supported his weight for the rest of the time that they were in the bank. She thought that he might try and pull away from her, and was relieved when he accepted her support without question. He seemed far too exhausted to even consider rebelling against her touch, as he had done so many times previously.

She had been worried about how he would react on their way back, still having to pass the dragon. But the child had simply looked longingly at the creature before following meekly behind her.

And that's how the majority of the afternoon had gone. Slowly Merlin had regained some strength and was capable of walking on his own, but he remained lacklustre and sleepy. They collected his textbooks, purchased him his robes, bought him his potion ingredients and the like, but the entire time he was uninterested and distant. Gone, somehow, was the curious boy who had started at it all in wonder. So when he turned excited to look at the pet shop, McGonagall ushered them in as fast as possible, anything to bring back Balinor's boy.

The instant they had walked in, a kitten had jumped out of another child's arms and strutted up to Merlin and then sat by his feet. It was a pure white cat, with short fur, and eyes that were yellow - but almost golden. Merlin had grinned and picked her up, for her to start purring instantly once she was in his arms. He gave a small laugh as she nuzzled into his cheek. Minerva sighed in relief; something had finally cheered him up.

The shop manager had walked over to them in a state of shock. "That cat," he said, "she's never like this with anyone." He shook his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think that she hated all witches and wizards," he laughed.

It was then that the kitten looked over her shoulder to meow at the man in what sounded like annoyance and disdain. As much as a cat can sound annoyed. McGonagall was highly amused, Merlin, however, didn't share her opinion.

"Aithusa!" he said reproachfully to the cat, "That isn't very kind." She then wined, sounding pitiful. He grinned at her and stroked her fur, before saying, "Alright then, I'll forgive you!"

He turned to McGonagall and beamed up at her. She couldn't resist the smile that crept on to her face at the sight. "You're calling her Aithusa then?" she asked as he went back to petting the feline.

"Yes," he answered, adopting a pensive look onto his face, "I don't know why, it just feels right." He snapped out of it rather quickly, and then he went back to grinning at his new pet.

After they had paid and left the store, Merlin was overall in a much better mood. His experience in Gringotts seemingly forgotten. And there was now only one thing left that they had to buy before she would have to take him home, a wand.

As they walked into Olivander's the eccentric shopkeeper appeared almost instantly. He was an old man with medium-length, white hair and bright blue eyes that had always reminded her of Albus. He had a look about his, almost as though he knew something that he was certain nobody else did. Yes, he definitely reminded her of Albus Dumbledore.

"Who do we have here?" he asked interestedly.

Minerva nudged Merlin when he didn't respond. "Oh! I'm -er- I'm Merlin Emrys, sir," he said timidly. Minerva was about to say something to comfort him and try and make him less nervous, when a loud meow from the ground got him to grin again. The animal was good for him, she decided.

"Emrys eh? A family even older than mine, now that _is_ a rare thing!" he said excitedly. "I remember helping your father choose his wand, so long ago, and yet it feels like yesterday."

Merlin looked uncomfortable at the mention of his father. His body tensed and he swallowed reflexively, looking down.

"And your mother too," he continued, oblivious to the child's distress. "She showed such kindness in her heart, even then. Yes, she was a true Hufflepuff, a badger from the start, I'd say." Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion, no doubt at the unfamiliar word and the comparison of his mother to an animal.

"But enough of the past! You're here about your own wand, not theirs. Now which hand . . ." And from there Olivander went about asking all of the usual questions, taking measurements and all the like. Somehow putting together all of this information to bring his client the perfect wand for him.

Many different wands were tried out, most with disastrous effects. Lots of things broke, lots of things blew up and McGonagall almost had her hat knocked off at one point. It had seemed like they had been there forever. But it didn't take long for things to get extremely out of hand.

"Here," said Olivander, "Unicorn hair, Ash wood, twelve inches. Give this one a try!" She had no idea how he could maintain his optimism. It was their forty-seventh attempt, and Minerva was not enthusiastic. And before Merlin could even wave the wand cautiously, Aithusa moved away from him to hide behind McGonagall. Minerva understood cats extremely well, and she did not take this as a good sign.

The boy sighed, looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but followed instruction and winced as he moved the wand. For a long moment nothing happened. And then the wand started shaking in Merlin's hand. His eyes widened as he looked from the wand in his hand to the two adults watching him. Mr Olivander lunged forward to try and snatch the wand out of his hand, but it was too late. The wand exploded and splintered everywhere.

They all stood in silence for a moment. Merlin was biting his lip and looking down. He seemed terrified that he was about to get scolded. Minerva felt for the boy. She wanted to say something but she was speechless. While none of the wands had had _good_ reactions so far, she certain hadn't expected one that _bad_.

Their silence was interrupted by a meow that sounded distinctly like an _'I told you so'_.

"Well I never!" Olivander exclaimed. "I could tell you were powerful boy, but to blow up a wand! Ha!" he laughed. He immediately busied himself picking up the splinters of left-over wand as Merlin regarded him with a shocked expression.

"What? You aren't angry?" he asked, utterly bewildered. "But I broke your wand!" She wasn't quite sure why the boy was seeking some sort of retribution, but he seemed certain that he should be receiving none.

"Of course not, my boy," Olivander laughed. "The wand chooses the wizard; it's hardly your fault if you were too much for this wand to handle. Now, stop being ridiculous!"

He left a shocked looking Merlin and then went to rummage around in the back of the shop. When he came back through he was carrying a very old-looking box and brushing dust off of the top of it. "Now, here we are!" he said eagerly. "I made this years ago, I had almost forgotten about it."

He opened the box to reveal a dark brown wand with golden carvings and symbols engraved into the wood. It was beautiful. "These are carvings of the old religion," he said. "Now, this is twelve and a half inches, with the scale of a great dragon as its core, and made of birch wood. As a rule, dragon cores produce wands with the most power, I think this is rather important in this case," he said with a smile. "And did you know that according to druidic lore birch is a wood with great powers to purify and discipline. Birch is about new beginnings, fresh starts and creativity. The druids called it a Goddess tree, the symbol of summer ever-returning."

Minerva wasn't sure why he had given such an in-depth explanation with this wand, there was no telling if it would be any better for the boy that the last. However, Merlin seemed enraptured by it all, fascinated by the history and the meaning of it all. And when he moved to take this wand, it was without any of the apprehension and anxiety that accompanied his last few attempts.

He didn't even get as far as grabbing the wand. As soon as his hand was close enough, his eyes flashed a bright gold and the wand flew to his hand, sparks coming out of the end in the same hue as his glowing eyes. The power pouring out of him was something else entirely.

"Marvellous!" Olivander enthused. "Simply wonderful! I do believe that we have a perfect match, Mr Emrys!"

The gold faded and Merlin looked at him with wide blue eyes. "Yes, I think so too," he agreed, looking at his wand in awe.

Minerva, however, was looking at _him_ in awe. That was twice now. In one day. Twice, that he had done extraordinary magic with his eyes changing to _gold_. The first time due to the stress with the dragon, the second the joy of uniting with is wand. Minerva knew there had to be a connection somewhere but she just couldn't find it. She would _have_ to talk to Albus about how extraordinary this little boy was.

"Right," she said, snapping out of her daze, "I believe that was all we needed from Diagon Alley. Let's pay Mr Olivander and I can take you back home."

His head snapped up when she said the word, home. He bit his lip and nodded reluctantly, but she could see the conflict and fear in his eyes at the thought of going back there. She hated that she had to return him to that horrid place, but there was nothing she could do about it for a while yet. The school year didn't start for months, and until she was officially his teacher then she had no power in the situation.

She made herself a promise that she would help the boy anyway she could, as soon as she was able.

And neither knew that they had both made a promise that day almost identical to the other.

* * *

They had apperated back to Little Whinging. It was not an experience that Merlin was keen to repeat, and he had no idea how the professor could keep so composed when it felt like you were being turned inside out. And while he could appreciate the practicality of apperation, he was in no hurry to learn how to do so himself.

They landed were a few streets away from Privet Drive; they couldn't be seen by any muggles, after all.

Merlin knew that this would be his last interaction with someone magical for a few months and the thought saddened him greatly. It was one thing when he knew he had magic but no idea how to access this whole other community. It was another thing to know exactly where to go and who he could talk to, only to be held back from it all by his 'family'.

"There are just a few more things that you should be aware of before I leave," McGonagall started, taking advantage of their short walk. "You will board the train at platform nine and three quarters. To get onto the platform, run at the wall between platforms nine and ten." She said this as if it was the most natural thing in the world and Merlin gawped at her in incredulity. She purposefully ignored his stare; he could tell by her slight smirk, she probably enjoyed freaking out new students with this information.

"You should also know," she carried on, "that you will be sorted into one of four houses upon your arrival to Hogwarts. Gryffindor, for the brave and reckless, of which I am head of; Ravenclaw, for the wise and creative; Slytherin, for the cunning and ambitious; and Hufflepuff, for the kind and hard-working," she explained.

He nodded, trying to take in all of the new information. "Which houses were my parents in?" he questioned quietly. He had been taught to never bring up his parents in the house, so the only person he had ever really mentioned them to was Harry. But he could remember Mr Olivander mentioning his mother and Hufflepuff.

McGonagall confirmed his trail of thought. "Your mother was a Hufflepuff," she said with a small smile. "Their symbol is a badger, that's why Mr Olivander called her one earlier today."

"A- and my dad?" he asked cautiously, still nervous about the topic of his parents.

When she answered, the professor had a faraway look in her eyes. "He was a true Gryffindor," she said with pride, "brave until the end." When she though he wasn't looking, Merlin saw her subtly wipe away a tear.

"I didn't know your mother very well," she started as they neared number six, "but I know they would have both been proud of you."

Merlin bit his lip and nodded, trying to believe her. The kitten in his arms started purring, almost to try and reaffirm the belief with him. He smiled at Aithusa and then the professor, as a thank you for saying it, even if he didn't quite believe it. After all, how could they be proud of a son who'd done nothing but disappoint and let down his remaining family?

They said their goodbyes and Professor McGonagall was on her way.

Before Merlin stepped inside he had one thought: he couldn't wait to tell Harry!


	3. Harry

**I wanted to especially thank _wecanflyawaytoGallifrey_ _SongoftheDarquePhoenix_ and _thejammysod_ , reading all of your reviews made me smile so much, I was so happy to see genuine interest in the story, so thank you! And also, _nightgigjo_ for both of your reviews, I'm so glad that you like the story!  
**

 **Anyways, enjoy!**

 **Edit: Again, there have only been small changes made in this edit, just re-wording and a few added paragraphs.**

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 **Chapter 3 - Harry  
**

Merlin knew there was something different about his magic. He wasn't quite sure what it was that made him so sure. But it just felt like he had something . . . _more_.

Now that made him sound incredibly big headed. He wasn't saying that what he had was _better_ , just different.

It was the same as with the dragon. He had had some sort of soul-deep bond with her and he didn't understand _why_. The magic came from the same part of him, from his very core. And he had absolutely no control over it. Somehow this weird magic was linked to his strange connection with the dragon. He had no idea how, but he would figure it out.

He had done plenty of accidental magic before. He had been doing it since he was three (at least that was his earliest memory of it), but never had it been that golden explosion he had felt within him. It felt powerful and ancient and so completely _him_. He had always loved the magic he was capable of doing, even if it frightened him, and it had always felt like it was a part of him. But this wasn't the same. It didn't feel like it was a part of him, it felt like it was _him._ That magic had made him feel so completely himself.

Something had awoken in him when he met the dragon, and he wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not. Merlin had always been different, the outsider. Whether that was at school or at home, he was always pushed away as the freak. Before he thought it was just because of his magic, he was a wizard so of course he didn't fit in with these people.

But then harry came along and, once he was old enough, Merlin had found is first friend in the four year old boy who lived next door. And that was when Merlin realised that being an outsider had nothing to do with his magic, because here was a perfectly ordinary boy that was just like him. And so they became outcasts together. Well, he says together, but they weren't really. As soon as Cenred and Mr Dursley had noticed their friendship, they shut it down. Cenred used threats and violence - which was a known and effective tactic for him - and Merlin had no idea what the Dursleys had tried. Whatever it had been wasn't very effective, because Harry kept coming up to him for the next few months.

That was, until, he started noticing Merlin had more bruises than usual, he held his side when he laughed more often than not. Harry had never been the most perceptive person, Merlin thought, but he had caught on to what was going on with Merlin very quickly. And so they avoided each other once more. They now only very rarely spoke to each other, and tried their hardest to be subtle about it. Harry wasn't scared of the Dursleys but he knew that Merlin was scared of Cenred, and Merlin was pretty sure that Harry was scared for him as well. It didn't really matter that they couldn't talk much, Merlin knew that Harry was there for him and Harry knew the same. They were brothers in all but blood. And when both of them could see what their blood relatives were like, they decided that blood didn't really matter all that much to them.

So when McGonagall had explained to him that nobody outside of his muggle family and other wizards could know about his magic, Merlin didn't even consider not telling Harry. After all, he was his only true family.

It was three weeks after Merlin had bought all of his school supplies that he had a chance to speak to Harry. Mordred was off from school with a cold, and since Harry didn't mind getting caught by the Dursleys, they had the entire school day to spend together! With both breaks and lunch, they would have a total of two hours to spend, and Merlin could finally tell Harry that he was a wizard.

He didn't tell him straight away, he wanted to the make the most of his time and just catch up with his friend. Apparently noting much had changed with Harry, Dudley was still a bully, he still lived under the stairs and the Dursleys hadn't started treating him any worse either. Merlin was satisfied with the lack of news; usually something important happening to one of them wasn't ever good. But Merlin finally had an exception that he could tell Harry about.

"So what about you then?" Harry asked, "I'm guessing nothing much has changed."

"Well actually," Merlin started with a smile. Harry's eyebrows rose at the apparent good news he was about to hear. "So I got this letter a while back, it was from the boarding school that my parents went to, and I have a standing place there," Merlin said with a grin.

"A boarding school . . ." Harry repeated, his face falling. "But I'll never see you."

"Wait, no, Harry," Merlin said, comprehension dawning on him. "Let me explain -"

"No, I get it," Harry said, putting up a brave face for his sake. "You _have_ to get away from your uncle; you shouldn't have to stay in a place like that."

"That's not it Harry," Merlin assured quickly, "I'd stay there for you, you _know_ I would." Harry smiled and nodded but Merlin could see it was fake. "This isn't just a regular school! It's for people with magic!"

Harry laughed harshly and tried to walk away. Merlin knew Harry thought he was mocking him. He believed Merlin, who had been his only friend, was making up stories of magic and lies just to get away from him. Harry wouldn't just sit and listen to it.

"Harry!" Merlin called after him. He needed him to just listen, Merlin could explain, he could prove it! He felt his magic react and knew he eyes must be gold. Harry was dragged back a few steps towards him.

He saw his friend turn around to look at him, confusion eveident on his face when he realised that Merlin was too far away to have physically pulled him backwards. "Harry, please!" Merlin cried again, watching Harry stumble back another two steps.

Harry seemed to decide that he would walk the rest of the distance of his own free will. "What the hell was that?" Harry said in partial anger partial confusion.

Merlin sighed and said tiredly, "I'm a wizard, Harry," while running a hand through his hair, self-consciously.

"You're a what?"

"I'm a wizard," he repeated.

"Look," Harry started, "I know I've always teased you for your name and everything," Merlin smiled at that, "and I have no idea how you just did that trick just then, but you can't be a wizard. You're Merlin, just Merlin."

Merlin smiled a melancholy smile. "Do you remember that time, a few years ago, when we were stupidly sat in your front garden and I heard the Dursleys threaten you with actual violence for the first time?" That was before Merlin had learned that the Dursleys were not as bad as the Kings, they would never actually cause physical harm to a child, they knew where to draw the line.

Harry gave a half-hearted laugh. It sounded pained. "You were livid," he said, "I was sure that if your uncle Cenred hadn't come when he did that you would have tried to tackle my uncle to the ground."

"I really was," he said. "But do you remember what happened after that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The power went out across our whole street for the next three hours," Merlin answered.

"You can't mean that that was -" Merlin cut him off with a nod.

They spoke as much as they could after that. Merlin recounted any time he could remember using is accidental magic, he told Harry about his parents and what little memories he had about them had almost always contained magic, about his new found love for Aithusa and all the wonders of Diagon Alley. Harry and listened to it all with a look of awe on his face.

The only part Merlin didn't tell him about was the dragon and his newfound connection to her, not to mention his eyes glowing gold (which had happened a few times when he did magic since the incidents that day). It wasn't that he wanted to keep anything from Harry; it was just that he wanted to know for himself what was going on before he had to try and explain it all to someone else.

But their time had run out. The school day was over and Harry and Dudley would be picked up by Petunia, Harry's aunt, and since Mordred wasn't there Merlin would have to walk home.

He wasn't looking forward to going home again. After the initial few days after he got his wand, Cenred had stayed in that weird state of indifference. But it didn't take long for things to revert back to how they had been before his Hogwarts letter had ever arrived. Merlin was extremely careful not to use this new magic around Cenred, Morgause and Mordred. It was bad enough when regular magic was seen or used, but Cenred was brought up by a magic family, he would realise how strange Merlin was. It was the last thing Merlin needed to happen, he didn't want to give Cenred another reason to torment him further. Things were bad enough as it was.

* * *

When he got home he was confronted by Mordred. He tried to stick to his rules, he really did. He should have learned by now that he was to never rise to Mordred's bait (rule no. one). It was his first and most important rule, and yet, here he was, disregarding it over something so petty. It shouldn't have been a big deal; it was nothing he hadn't heard before. But for whatever reason, that day, it just got to him.

He'd gotten home and tried to make it to his attic room as quietly as possible. The less attention he drew to himself the better. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. But Mordred had been ill that day, and he was determined to take that out on somebody else, and that someone had to mean Merlin.

He had only made it as far as the second floor when Mordred confronted him.

"I'm guessing you spoke to that freak next door today?" he asked. Merlin knew what he was doing. Mordred had learned a long time ago that the quickest way to get to Merlin was to insult the people he cared about - well, the _person_ he cared about.

"I don't know who you're talking about, Mordred," Merlin responded calmly, "there are no freaks next door. Unless you mean Dudley? But you know we're not friends."

Mordred had attempted a smirk. He couldn't quite pull it off effectively with a red nose and a duvet around his shoulders. "Don't try to be smart, it doesn't suit you, _Mer_ lin."

This was just child's play. _This_ , Merlin could ignore easily.

"Is there something you wanted, Mordred, or can I go to my room?" Merlin couldn't stand his cousin, but along with his rule not to rise to Mordred's bait, came the rule to always stay polite and respectful. As much as Merlin hated it, he would stick to it as long as he could.

Mordred laughed. "Eager to get away, are we? Why, what've you got to hide?"

Merlin tried to show no emotion on his face, but knew he had failed when he heard Mordred chuckle again. He didn't even know himself if this guilt was over the new magic or his meeting with Harry, but either way, he would apologise for neither. This thought strengthened his resolve.

"No," he said, looking his cousin straight in the eye, "nothing to hide."

Merlin had never been good at lying. It was something both Mordred and Cenred had thoroughly taken advantage of. So he was sure that this knew found confidence, especially when Mordred _knew_ he was lying, had almost definitely thrown his cousin off. He took an unconscious step back as his face scrunched in confusion. Merlin had to suppress a smile at the small victory.

"I don't know why you're so desperate to hang around with that Potter boy, anyway. I mean, we've always known that you were a desperate weirdo, but stalking a kid that's two years younger than you . . . that must be a new low, even for _your kind_."

Merlin bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut to keep from saying anything, even as his hand clenched and unclenched itself at his side.

Mordred must have noticed, because his malicious smile widened before he kept on talking. "Then again, Potter's such a freak himself, he probably wouldn't even mind. He's about as desperate for a friend as you are. Why is that, I wonder?" he asked himself. "I bet it's because of his parents, yours too, I'm sure." Merlin's eyes snapped open at the mention. And neither boy had noticed yet, but Merlin's eyes began to flicker gold. "Yes, both of you, with your stupid, dead parents."

Merlin gaped at him. Hunith and Balinor were never spoken about, ever. It was one of _Cenred's_ rules that even Mordred seemed too afraid to break. Well, apparently not. Merlin wasn't sure what to think of his parents being brought up like that. He could tell that Mordred wanted to push his buttons, and so far was doing a commendable job, but this was something else.

"Don't talk about my parents like that," he snapped. "Or Harry's, for that matter." Considering what was being said, Merlin still felt reasonably calm about the whole situation. "You know nothing of my parents, and nothing about me, so shove off, Mordred."

"Well I know just about as much about your parents as you do! Remember, they _died_ when you were only a toddler!" he shouted.

"That's where you're wrong," Merlin said with a smirk, "I have actual memories of my parents. And in those three or four moments that I remember, my parents showed me far more love than I have _ever_ seen Cenred and Morgause show you! So say what you want, Mordred, but I pity you," Merlin spat.

Mordred's eyes widened and is face went red, whether it was because of embarrassment or rage, Merlin wasn't quite sure yet (and he was not looking forward to finding out). He cousin seemed surprised, that much he was certain of.

They might've spent an entire minute just staring at each other in shock; neither of them had expected something that harsh to come out of Merlin's mouth. He wasn't sure whether to be proud of himself for finally winning and shutting Mordred up, or disappointed for sounding so cruel. This wasn't Merlin; he didn't want to turn into the people he was living with. He couldn't let himself sink that low. He had to apologise (rule no. three).

"Look, I'm sorr-" But Merlin's apology was cut off by Mordred turning on his heel and storming back into his bedroom. But no before Merlin caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

How could he be so stupid? His cousin was a prat, but he was only eight! He didn't deserve to hear that, no one did. How could he be so insensitive? He had been told all of his life that he was worthless and unloved, his only reprieve had been Harry, so why on earth had he turned all of that back on to Mordred? He was an idiot, a complete, and absolute, idiot.

Sighing, Merlin picked his school bag up off the corridor floor and turned to make his way up to the attic. Why couldn't he have just stuck to his rules and kept his mouth shut? Merlin had no idea what sort of consequences would come from this, but he knew for sure that they would be terrible, and he was not looking forward to them.

* * *

Said consequences arrived at dinner. Well, lack-of-dinner he should probably call it instead.

It had started when he came down to find only three place set at the table, and all of them already filled by his 'family'. The second he'd seen it he had understood that that meant there was no food for him tonight, this was really nothing new. He had started to turn around, ready to leave, knowing that there was no place for him there.

"Stop," Cenred had ordered. Merlin paused, he was confused but he knew he had to always follow orders. "You're going to sit there," he said, "and watch."

Merlin turned around, with his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Watch?" he repeated warily.

"Yes," Cenred confirmed, "Watch."

So Merlin approached the table and watched. He watched as they ate and chatted and conversed. He watched them behave as a family, knowing that he wasn't a part of that. He realised, this wasn't just about the food he was missing. Cenred was showing him that he wasn't one of them, that he would never be a part of their family.

Merlin had always known that. He had always been taught that he was a freak and an outsider. This wasn't news to him, but being confronted by it like that hurt. It shouldn't. He should have been used to it by now. He wasn't. He didn't know why he wasn't. And he hated himself for it.

And that must have been Cenred's plan all along.

"I know what you did today." It was the first time Cenred had addressed him since the order and it snapped him out of his daze.

"What?"

"I said, I know what you did today," Cenred said calmly. "Or rather, who you were with." Merlin swallowed reflexively. He had never been good at lying; he could hardly deny what Cenred was obviously implying. "What do you think you were doing with Harry Potter?"

"Nothing, sir!" Merlin said quickly, averting his gaze from Cenred's eyes. "We weren't doing anything!"

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" he said, some anger sinking into his voice. "Oh no, Mr Dursley was considerate enough to send dear Dudley over with a message as soon as he found out."

Merlin said nothing; he just kept his eyes focused on a random spot on the table. He knew to keep quiet. Cenred was getting angry, and he had been drinking with his meal too. When it came to an angry, drunk Cenred Merlin knew the best thing was to just sit still and take it.

"What? Nothing to say? No clever remarks like earlier today? Nothing to say like you said to Mordred?" On the other side of the table, Mordred flinched. That was when Merlin realised that Mordred hadn't told Cenred anything, Cenred had overheard.

Merlin blanched.

Slowly, Cenred rose from the table, towering over Merlin. He tried hard to suppress a flinch as Cenred's hand clamped down on his shoulder. He failed. He saw the sick grin forming on Cenred's face as he subconsciously tried to lean away from him.

"I'm sorry," Merlin started whispering (rule no. three). "I'm so sorry, it was stupid, and I didn't mean it! Please, I promise!" He kept saying the same thing over and over. He knew better though. He had learned that it made no difference at times like these.

* * *

The next day Merlin didn't get out of bed.

The day after that, he managed to make it downstairs once, for food.

And after that, it was Monday, and no matter what, he was not allowed to skip school. When he saw Harry in the halls the boy almost ran to him, before Merlin minutely shook his head, and limped along his way.

Mordred didn't look him in the eye for a week, but Merlin held no blame for him, for once.

Merlin didn't speak more than one or two words at once for the next three weeks. No one really noticed any difference in his behaviour. No one but Harry, that is. Harry watched him like a hawk. It was pointless, really; it wasn't like there was anything Harry could do to help.

But still, he watched. It was like he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for Merlin to fight back. Merlin was waiting for that too.

Just a few more months, he reassured himself. Just a few more months and he could finally be away from it all. A few more months and he would be at Hogwarts, learning magic with people who were just like him. Well, maybe not _just_ like him, even among wizards he was an oddity. Destined to be an outsider.

Merlin wasn't sure he could wait any longer. If his life continued like this, he wasn't sure whether he would last until September first. Cenred hadn't touched him for three weeks. Merlin was certain that he knew. He knew that if he hurt him anymore that Merlin was probably going to break irreparably. Merlin was almost counting on it.

Just a few more months . . .

* * *

The next time he properly spoke to Harry, it was the start of the summer holidays (it was the first time he'd really spoken to _anyone_ since). It was one of the rare afternoons where both the Kings and the Dursleys had gone for a family day trip, obviously leaving both Harry and Merlin behind with their neighbour, Mrs Figg. Both families thinking that their nephews were completely alone and isolated, Mrs Figg would keep their secret.

Merlin had been there for an hour already when Mrs Figg had gone to open the door and retuned with Harry.

The second Harry saw him he grinned and ran to Merlin. Merlin smiled back, but it was half-hearted and looked pained. By the time Harry had reached him and went in for a hug, Merlin had seized up entirely. He could see the hurt look on Harry's face as he pulled away from him.

It had only been seven weeks since the incident (Merlin decided that he had been having far too many ' _incidents_ ' what with this one about Cenred and months ago with the dragon), and Merlin was still wary of touch. Cenred was too sensible to cause any more harm to him for a while, but that didn't mean that he didn't take joy in grabbing Merlin at random times, doing anything to make him jump, make him scared.

Usually after a particularly bad confrontation with Cenred, Merlin would take a few weeks to adjust back to normal with how he acted with Harry. Merlin wasn't quite sure what it was about this one that was making it take so long.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, feeling guilty. He forced his body to un-tense and relax itself. He tried to flash Harry a reassuring smile, from Harry's face it probably didn't turn out great.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said as he moved to take a seat on the settee next to Merlin. And Harry's answering smile actually _was_ reassuring.

Mrs Figg put on the television for them and they sat together quietly watching. At some point Harry's head had moved onto his shoulder and he was leaning against Merlin. Seeing Harry so relaxed like that, Merlin didn't have the heart to tell about him the slowly-healing dislocated shoulder that his head was resting on. It had been twice as painful and had been taking twice as long to heal, since he only had it in a make-shift sling the first two days. But Merlin said nothing. Harry was finally relaxed for once; he wouldn't ruin that just for his own comfort.

Eventually they started talking softly, the noise of the TV barely noticeable in the background. They didn't speak about anything of importance. Harry knew better than to bring up Merlin's injury, or how pained his voice sounded when he spoke. Although, to be fair, that sound wasn't just from the _actual_ pain, Merlin hadn't had a proper conversation with anyone in weeks (he rarely spoke at school and he avoided everyone at 'home'), so his voice was bound to be a bit hoarse from lack of use.

It was Merlin who eventually brought up the topic.

It had been about three hours and Merlin was curled up on the sofa, resting on his side, while Harry was sat on the floor, his back against the settee. Their faces were close together and they were talking in whispers.

"I can't do it anymore, Harry," Merlin confessed, his voice was rough and strained. "I can't go back to that house."

"You've got to," Harry told him. "Believe me, I _hate_ you being there. But it isn't for much longer, right? You'll be off to your new school soon; you'll be away from it all." Harry had clearly tried, but Merlin still heard the jealousy in his voice at the thought of being away from them all. "You've just got to make it until September."

"I'll really miss you, y'know," Merlin said. "I know we don't exactly spend that much time together, but I'll miss knowing that you're never far away." He saw the back of Harry's head nod. "I'll write to you as well," Merlin promised. "They use owls to deliver messages, so you don't have to rely on the Dursleys to send one back. If anything, that'll let us talk more than we do now," Merlin tried to joke, but he just heard a sniffle coming from Harry.

"Please look at me?" Merlin asked gently. When Harry turned his head to the side, his eyes were slightly red and glistening.

"I'm glad you'll be safe," Harry told him, "but I'm really going to miss you, I probably won't see you for a whole year, it not like it's likely we'll see each other before you go."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Merlin said, "Happy Birthday, Harry. I know that it's a few weeks away, but since I won't see you, Happy ninth Birthday." Harry cracked a small smile. Merlin patted the space on the settee in front of him. Harry climbed up and lay in front of him. Merlin wrapped one of his arms around his little brother and they both fell asleep like that.

And that was the last time they saw each other before Merlin went to Hogwarts.


	4. New Friends

**Thank you for the reviews on chapter three! Especially _thejammysod,_ I loved reading your review, it made me so happy to see such interest in the story and how things will turn out, and yes I do have quite a lot planned for Mordred along those lines.**

 **Anyways, onwards with the story.**

 **Edit: Next to nothing has changed in this chapter, you're all good.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 4 - New Friends  
**

The Hogwarts Express was magnificent. Well, for a train, that is. He still wasn't quite sure how a train managed to look impressive, he suspected magic was the answer (he also suspected that that would be the answer to a lot of the questions he would have this year).

Merlin felt a grin forming on his face. He would finally be studying magic! He was finally going to the place where his parents met and fell in love. He would be closer to them, at Hogwarts, than he had been in the last seven years. He was about to finally find himself a home.

He would be surrounded by people _just_ like him, all wizards, all with magic. He could hardly wait. For months he had been counting down to this day, and now it was only a few hours away, just a train ride away. His destiny was just a train ride away.

Or, possibly, he was about to crash head first into his destiny, luggage and all . . .

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Merlin exclaimed, clambering off of the boy he'd crashed into and then also fallen on top of. He struggled not to cry out in pain as he felt an ache in his ribs (Cenred's goodbye present was really making itself known). He quickly picked up his fallen luggage and then Aithusa's carrier, ignoring her indignant meow. He stuck out his hand, offering the boy a hand up, and bit his lip guiltily, staring at the floor. Some first impression, huh . . .

The boy batted his hand away (rather rudely, actually), and pushed himself up of the ground, without assistance. Once he was up he brushed off his clothes - muggle clothes, Merlin noted - looking disdainfully at both his dust covered attire and Merlin. "Can't you watch where you're going?" he asked in a belittling tone that reminded him instantly of Cenred. He had to stop himself from physically recoiling backwards.

"S-s- sorry," Merlin stuttered out (rule no. three), thrown off by the distinctly unpleasant tone. He finally found the courage to look up at the boy, finding a mop of golden hair and eyes almost as blue as his own. "I'll help with your bags," he offered quickly, trying to make up for his clumsiness. _Of course he's acting unpleasant,_ Merlin tried to justify, _you just crashed into him; you can't expect him to be jumping for joy_.

"No thank you," he declined, not sounding the least bit thankful. "I hardly want to see what else you can manage to muck up," he said with a sneer.

Merlin had to force himself to breathe deeply several times. Hogwarts was supposed to be his new start. He hadn't even started his first day and he was already starting to feel the exact same way here as he did back there. What was wrong with him? How did he manage to make people hate him everywhere he went?

"Hello?" the boy said, waving his hands in front of Merlin's face,

"Sorry, what?" he asked. He must have been talking while he'd zoned out, Merlin realised.

"Oh thank God," the blonde said sarcastically, "I thought for a moment that you were deaf as well as dumb!"

"L- look, it was an accident," Merlin tried to explain calmly; "I said I was sorry, I offered to help you with your bags, what more do you want from me?"

"Maybe you can try to not be such an idiot!" he cried.

Aithusa hissed in his arms and Merlin swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'll leave you alone now."

He bit back a thousand different retorts that had come to mind; a lifetime of biting your tongue had its effects. All he wanted was to shout back at the boy, tell him that there was no need to be such a _prat_ ; anyone could see that it was an accident; he didn't have to make such a big deal out of. But, of course, he couldn't. He had lived for far too long on the knowledge that opening your mouth at the wrong time got you hurt; Merlin didn't need any more of that. Logically, his brain insisted, that there was hardly any chance that this boy would respond physically, and even if he did, this place was busy enough that someone would stop him. But the logic meant nothing. Fear, and a lifetime of running away from conflict, got in the way.

Merlin placed Aithusa securely in her carrier and lugged his suitcase away. He kept his eyes down cast as he walked, watching his feet; he didn't need to trip and offend anyone else. He would keep to himself until he reached Hogwarts. It was better that way. Anyway, he had Aithusa by his side, what more did he need? He nodded firmly to himself, his decision made.

"Excuse me, dear?" A hand wrapping around his forearm caused him to spin around and snapped him out of his thoughts. He gasped, eyes wide, and pulled away from the woman instantly. It took him a good thirty seconds to get his breathing under control and drive the panic away.

"Are you alright, dear?" The woman clearly decided that he would be better off without her touching him. Her eyes scanned him, full of concern, narrowing in on the way he held his side, the faint yellow, fading, bruise he had on his right cheek and the way his clothes hung off his frame. "I saw you crash into that other boy, I didn't see any parents with you and thought I'd ask if you were alright."

Merlin just looked at her with surprise. Why did she care? He wasn't her problem, why would it matter to her if he was okay or not. He didn't understand.

"Dear?" she asked with a friendly smile. She had bright red hair and seemed to be surrounded by far too many children with the same coloured hair. He wondered, distantly, if they were all her children or if some were nieces and nephews.

"Y- Yes," Merlin finally stuttered out. "I'm- I'm fine." He took a deep breath. "You- you didn't need to . . . I'll be going now," he said awkwardly, backing away slowly.

"What about your parents?" she asked worriedly.

"I don't have any," he said quickly, before practically running in the opposite direction.

"Oh, Arthur," he heard the same voice say, as he walked steadily away from the group. She sounded ever so sad. "I think that might've been Bal's boy."

Merlin almost spun around, just to check if he heard right. Bal? That could be short for Balinor, right? Did she know his father? He was routed to the spot. How could he turn around? What if he could hear more?

"Who the hell is _Bal?"_ That sounded like a young boy, maybe one of her sons. Merlin was still too afraid to turn around and check.

"Are you sure Molly?" It was an older man's voice this time. Probably her husband and who he assumed was 'Arthur'. "And Bal was one of our friends at Hogwarts, Ron, I shared a room with him for seven years. Balinor," Merlin sucked in a silent breath, "his full name was Balinor, but we always called him Bal for short."

His breathing sped up rapidly. That must have been his father. Balinor wasn't a common name, or maybe it was for wizards, and the woman _did_ think that he was his son. Did that mean he looked like his father? It couldn't be a coincidence. All Merlin wanted to do was walk up to the couple and ask them a thousand questions. If they had been friends with his parents, does that mean he met them when he was small, before he was taken away? What were his parents like as teenagers? Was his father a good man? _Please_ , Merlin thought, _let him have been nothing like Cenred_.

"How come we've never heard of this Balinor before then?"

"Don't be an idiot, Ron!"

"What?"

"He said he had no parents. Obviously they died, probably in the war."

Merlin had tears in his eyes by this point. He was attracting quite a few stares from the people around him. Of course he was. He was a child alone on a busy train platform, crying and struggling to breathe. Of course people were watching. Aithusa gave a supportive meow from her carrier. He blinked and wiped the tears on the back of his sleeve.

"Oh. Well how was I supposed to -?"

"Shush" one of the whispered.

They must have spotted him. Well, he was hardly difficult to notice. So when a hand gently grabbed his shoulder and spun him around he wasn't really that shocked or defensive.

"Hello," said the man before him. He had bright ginger hair, just like the woman - his wife, Molly, was it? - had had. He had some round glasses on, as well as some worn, brown, wizarding robes. "I'm Arthur Weasley, you wouldn't happen to be Merlin Emrys by any chance, would you?"

Merlin blinked slowly and then nodded. He was sure that his eyes were still red. The man held out a hand and Merlin shook it hesitantly.

"It's a pleasure to see you again." Merlin's eyes widened. So he _had_ met them when he was younger! "You know, you look a lot like your father did when he was your age. I think you might be a little taller," he said, much to Merlin's delight. "And skinner," he added, with a sad sigh.

Merlin didn't care, he beamed at the man. He looked like his father? He couldn't believe it. "Really?" he asked Mr Weasley breathlessly.

The man smiled kindly and nodded. "Yes, really. Oh, and you definitely have his ears!" he said with a small chuckle.

Merlin flushed red, his ears turning a pinkish colour as well. But his smile hadn't diminished. The only other discussion he had had about his parents had been with the professor, and all she had said was their houses and that his father had been brave. But now, Merlin was finally talking to someone who could tell him anything he wanted about his parents.

"Did . . . Did you know my mother too?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I did," Mr Weasley said with a large smile, obviously glad that Merlin was participating in conversation. "I didn't know her very well in our first few years at Hogwarts, since she was in a different house and all, but in the last few years we became closer. She was a very kind-hearted woman. No matter what, she could always make you smile."

Merlin beamed at the information. He couldn't believe it. It had taken eleven years, but he was finally getting to know his parents properly.

He was ready to ask a thousand more questions, but the man interrupted him.

"Look," he said, not unkindly, "I'm sure you have a few questions, and I would love to answer them for you, but I'd hate for you to miss your train." He looked apologetic. And when Merlin looked up to check the time, he saw it was almost eleven. His heart sunk knowing that this one chance to get some answers was ruined.

"Of course," Merlin muttered, bending down to pick up Aithusa's carrier (who had been suspiciously silent throughout all of this).

The man looked conflicted for a moment before glancing back at his family quickly and then saying, "My sons, Fred and George, they're starting this year as well. If you would like to write a letter, with any questions, pass it on to them and they can send it with their letters to us."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Wait- really?"

"Yes, now hurry!"

Merlin shouted a quick thank you and then ran for the train. Well, maybe his new start hadn't started out so bad after all . . .

* * *

He walked a while before he found a relatively empty compartment. But eventually he stumbled on to one that only had two people in it, and they both looked like fellow first years.

He knocked and slid the door open slightly. "Is it okay if I sit here?" he asked nervously.

The boy grinned and said, "Of course, the more the merrier!" Merlin was pretty sure that he had an Irish accent. He gave off a very confidant aura, especially for an eleven year old. He had longish hair and a roguish grin, but his smile was infectious and Merlin couldn't help but grin back.

"Thanks," he said as he ducked his head and gave a sheepish smile. He put away his suitcase away and Aithusa's carrier on the seat next to him, before introducing himself. "I'm Merlin," he said politely.

Unsurprisingly the boy and the quiet girl across from him laughed. However when he failed to join in it died out uncomfortably.

"You were serious weren't you?" the girl asked with wide eyes and an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. She was very pretty and had long brown hair.

Merlin nodded awkwardly in response to her question.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she gasped, apologetic. The boy, however, seemed to only laugh harder, finding it hilarious that someone could have that for an actual name, _especially_ a wizard. "Gwaine, don't be rude!" she snapped at him.

The boy - Gwaine - sobered quickly after that. "Sorry, mate," he said, still sounding rather amused, "but you better get used to that reaction because you're going to get it a lot."

Merlin's ears were bright red, but he smiled good-naturedly; he figured that that would be the reaction to hearing his name. It was hardly a surprise. "Yeah," Merlin muttered, "as soon as I realised I had magic when I was little, I had convinced myself that I was the _actual_ Merlin. I watched _The Sword in The Stone_ as much as I could," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

Gwaine looked a little confused at the movie title but the girl smiled at him. "So are you muggle born then?" she asked. "Oh! I'm Mithian, by the way," she beamed.

"No actually," he said, "both my parents were wizards."

"And they named you _Merlin_? That's a big name to live up to! What the hell were they thinking?" Gwaine laughed. Merlin shrugged.

"Wait, you've never asked them?" Mithian asked, shocked.

Merlin swallowed uneasily. He hadn't wanted this to come up so quickly. He didn't want their pity. They were friendly and nice, Merlin didn't want to ruin that and tell them that he's an orphan. People always treated him differently when they found out. The only person who never did was Harry, and that was only because Harry was in the same boat as him. They were _both_ orphans, they knew that a stranger saying _'I'm sorry'_ didn't mean anything.

"Merlin?" Gwaine asked softly, after he'd zoned out.

"No, I never asked them," he answered quietly, "they both died when I was four."

"Oh," Mithian said sympathetically, "I'm sor-"

"It is fine," Merlin cut her off, giving her an easy smile. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it. And after finding out a few things today and knowing that he could learn more about his parents, the smile wasn't even that fake.

Aithusa made a little noise of enquiry, not quite a meow. He smiled genuinely as he opened the carrier to let her out, she didn't wait a moment before jumping onto his lap and curling up there, quite contentedly.

"Who's this lovely little lady?" Gwaine asked, changing the topic quite effectively. And Merlin was almost certain that Aithusa purred louder at the compliment.

He chuckled. "This is Aithusa," he told them, "but, fair warning, the guy in the shop said she was very fussy with people." Gwaine shrugged off his comment and went to stroke the kitten. She leaned into his touch. Gwaine smirked at proving Merlin wrong, but Merlin just smiled and shrugged at him.

"She's so cute!" Mithian exclaimed as she leaned forward to try and touch the cat. Before she could even get close, Aithusa hissed and arched her back at Mithian.

Merlin and Gwaine both laughed, but Mithian seemed a little put out. "Don't worry about it," Merlin tried to reassure her, "I've no idea what makes her so fussy."

"Maybe she doesn't like girls," Gwaine suggested.

"Maybe," Mithian agreed, but she still didn't seem very happy about.

The rest of the journey to Hogwarts was relatively peaceful, and Merlin took the opportunity to find out more about his new - hopefully soon to be - friends.

Turns out that they were both from pure-blood families, their families were old friends and apparently Gwaine's were considered to be blood-traitors in some circles. The Orkneys were still a very old and influential family though, and Gwaine apparently hated his pure-blood status, he thought people should be judged on their own worth and nothing more. The Nemeths were also powerful, but Mithian's father had married a half-blood so her grandparents weren't pleased and had shunned her and her father.

"Dad never really cared though," she told them, "he's happy with mum and always tells us that, that's all that really matters."

It was an interesting conversation to say the least.

Merlin had also shared what little information he had on his family. His grandfather was a pure-blood but he had married a muggle-born, which was probably why his uncle was a squib. They had both been shocked to know the he had been raised without magic. He then went on to explain that his mother was also a half-blood, so he wasn't sure what that made him.

Gwaine had just shrugged and said, "It doesn't really matter. All that stuff on _blood purity_ is rubbish anyway!"

Merlin had smiled; glad that he was with someone who he didn't think would judge him.

The conversation went on from there, and Merlin found out more about the wizarding world since his uncle had never allowed it to be spoken of. Merlin could only really compare what he heard with his experience in Diagon Alley, and after what he had seen with the dragon he knew that it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows in the wizarding world. Turns out it's not so different from the muggle world. They have a working government and (sort of) police force, there was good education, and there were prejudices and discrimination, too. Just like the rest of the world . . .

When the train finally arrived, they were instructed to leave all their belongings on the train. Merlin trusted the school, but he wasn't entirely comfortable leaving Aithusa behind like that. Gwaine and Mithian shrugged of his concerns, telling him that she would just show up in whatever dorm he would eventually sleep in. It didn't stop him from worrying about her, but he accepted their words as truth.

They clambered off the train as a group; trying to stick together in the sea of students, all of which were taller than them. Merlin's eyes widened at how many students there were. His primary school had only had a little under 200 students, there were close to a thousand (maybe more) here. It had felt just as busy on the platform at Kings Cross, but Merlin had attributed the chaos to the parents and family that everybody but him seemed to have with them. It was extremely overwhelming to see it again now.

He was brought out of his train of thought by Mithian tugging on his arm, pulling him in the direction of the moving sea of fellow first years. They were all moving towards a man who towered above even the seventh years. He was large (not just in height) and had very long hair and a very long beard, his face just surrounded by a big curly mess.

They piled onto the boats that were lined up, and since it was four to a boat the three of them sat together with a boy who had strawberry-blond curly hair, he had given them a small, nervous, smile as he took the last seat. The giant, however, seemed to need one boat just for himself, and even then, Merlin ever so slightly doubted that it wouldn't still sink.

Merlin's head turned at the sound of all the gasps. Hogwarts was coming into view and it was . . . _amazing_. A castle! He was going to school in a castle! It was all made out of grey brick with turrets and spires. The lights shone through the windows, making it look like the castle glowed in the dark night. It was a cloudy night and so no stars could be seen, so the only thing giving them light was the castle a head. It just looked _magical_.

He really couldn't help the grin that was on his face. He had finally made it, after he'd hoped and he'd waited. This place would become his home for the next few months, really for the next seven years, and he couldn't have been happier. Merlin could sense the magic radiating off of the place in waves, but he was hardly surprised. Generations of magic users had graced the halls of Hogwarts; he could feel all of that power, all of the magic that they left behind. It was just calling to him. His smile broadened at the thought that some of his parents' magic had been left behind there as well.

When he stepped foot off the boat and laid his first step on the school grounds, he had an overwhelming feeling of coming home. He stopped there for a good few seconds just grinning stupidly.

"Come on," Gwaine said with an excited grin and a nudge to Merlin's ribs to prompt him into moving again. Merlin bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop any cry of pain from escaping. He would not let Cenred ruin this for him. Merlin flashed him a fake smile, that didn't reach his eyes, and they continued together.

They followed the rest of the group, which was led by the giant man that Merlin still hadn't managed to catch the name of. Eventually they were led to a huge entrance all that easily fit in the entire group of first years. From where he was, Merlin could spot two ginger boys who seemed to be attracting the attention of the people around them, all of them laughing rather loudly. Merlin went on his tip toes trying to see what was going on, but Mithian gripped his wrist and tugged him back down with a nod in the direction of a very displeased professor.

"Thank you, both, Mr's Weasley, for that wonderful recollection of what the sorting will be like," Professor McGonagall addressed the two twin boys (that Merlin only then realised must be Arthur Weasley's sons, Fred and George). "You are, however, incorrect in your assumption that you are to _fist-fight_ all the heads of houses and whichever one you beat you join." There were sniggers and laughs breaking out across the gathering of students there. She raised an eyebrow and the proud looks on their faces and Merlin saw a small smirk fight its way onto her face.

"The _real_ sorting will commence in a few moments," she told the group of them, "I suggest that you tidy yourselves up a bit; you will be seen in front of the entire school." Merlin saw her smile again at the nervous faces and people trying to quickly run their hands through their hair and other such things. He didn't think it was a malicious smile, more, just amused.

Next to Merlin, Mithian was trying to fix her hair after Gwaine was continuously messing it up. He allowed himself a small smile at her expense. He was tempted to laugh a little, too, but he didn't quite want to risk that temper she was using on Gwaine turning onto him.

"I swear to _Merlin_ , if you do that one more time I'll -"

Merlin chocked on air. "You swear to who now?"

Gwaine laughed harder, and Mithian forgot her mussed hair, covering her mouth with both of her hands. At first it was in shock, and then quickly became her trying to muffle her laugh.

Merlin, on the other hand, just stood in front of them, not at all amused and thoroughly confused.

Gwaine's laughter died down and he threw an arm over Merlin's shoulder in a casual manner (Merlin only tensed slightly) before explaining to him, "She doesn't mean you, mate. She means the old Merlin, you know, the legend. Wizards swear by his name, use him as a curse, kind of like how muggles use 'Jesus Christ'."

"You're not serious," Merlin groaned.

Mithian nodded through her giggles. Gwaine gave him a reassuring smile. "You'll get used to it, mate."

Merlin seriously doubted that. And he was about to tell them so when the doors to the great hall opened and McGonagall stepped forward. "If you'll all follow me," she said. "The sorting will now commence."


	5. First Nights and First Days

**Quick thanks to those who reviewed, including a guest, _yoondick_ and, once again, _thejammysod_. Thanks all of you for your support and interest in the story. **

**And also thank you to all who have followed and favourited this story, as I am only just realising it's taken me this long to thank you all.**

 **Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

 **Edit: Again, next to no change in this one.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 5 - First Nights and First Days  
**

For some reason, Merlin, surprisingly, wasn't nervous. He observed the people around him and quite easily gathered that all of them were on edge, though some hid it rather well. Some of them were shaking, some fidgeting anxiously, others had a well put together façade and stood with their heads high. Gwaine was one of the latter. He gave off a cool air of nonchalance, his shoulders relaxed and his hands in his pockets, but Merlin could see the nerves in his eyes as they darted around the great hall. Another was the blond boy Merlin had run into on the platform. But the second he saw Merlin watching him, Merlin averted his gaze and looked down guiltily.

McGonagall brought out a three legged stool with and placed an old worn hat on it. It didn't look like much. There were patches on it and it seemed a little frayed around the edges, but it did look like a proper wizard's hat, like the type you imagine the _real_ Merlin would have worn. But either way, it still just looked like a plain old hat; he had no idea what this could have to do with the sorting.

That was, until the hat started singing.

Merlin's eyes widened comically, as did a few of the others around him. Looking around him, and not really focusing on what the hat was singing, Merlin realised that it was only his fellow first years who were shocked, all of the staff members and older students seemed to be completely nonplussed and even entertained by the singing hat.

The only other person in the hall he caught not staring at the hat was the headmaster. Well, he assumed he was the headmaster, since he was sat in the middle of the staff table on a slightly taller and much more impressive-looking chair than the other professors, Merlin thought that he was a safe in his assumptions. But none of that explained why he wasn't focused on the hat like everyone else (like _he_ should be). But no, rather than that, his attention was centred on something else entirely. Him . . .

The headmaster of Hogwarts was staring directly at him.

There were dozens of new students but the man was only looking at him. His blue eyes were focused, they looked as if they could see right through you, discover your every secret. Though, Merlin was not worried about his secret, he was sure that Professor McGonagall would have reported his extreme oddities to the headmaster. No, that wasn't what bothered Merlin about the headmaster's stare. What bothered him was that the eyes he was staring into looked oh so similar to his own. It wasn't just their bright blue colour, it was more than that. There was power there. Power and wisdom. Merlin had never before thought himself to possess either of those qualities, but when he looked in those eyes that was what he saw, and when he looked in those eyes it was like he was looking into his own.

But whatever side track his mind had decided to travel down was lost as abrupt silence pulled him back into reality. His eyes snapped away just on the tail-end of the applause.

McGonagall was now speaking, he realised, as she raised the hat off the stool and called out, "Bastet, Freya." A very short girl with long brown hair and brown eyes walked up to the stool and sat down on it, and then McGonagall placed the hat on her head. It was quiet for a few moments, not long though, and then the hat shouted for the entire hall to hear, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was clapping and cheering throughout the hall, most of it coming from one table where Merlin assumed the Hufflepuffs sat.

A few more names were called out, including Valiant Black who was a Slytherin and Lance Du Lac who was a Ravenclaw, before it got to, "Emrys, Merlin." There was laughter coming from everyone in the hall at the sound of his name. He blushed bright red when he realised. However, his name was the least of Merlin's worries. Oh no, Merlin was far more concerned with his clumsiness. He would not surprise himself if he tripped on his way over. Or his way back.

As calmly as he could manage, and watching his feet as he went, Merlin made his way through the crowd of first years and towards the three legged stool. As he sat down, and just before the hat fell over his eyes, he saw professor McGonagall give him a small smile of encouragement. Perhaps she hoped that he would be in her house, like his father before him.

 _"Well, well, what have we here?"_ a voice asked. Merlin had put together enough to realise it was the hat talking, even if he hadn't really listened to his song. _"What do you mean you didn't listen to my song?!"_ It asked, outraged. _"Do you know how long I worked on that?"_

His eyes widened as he realised he was having his thoughts read, he thought he would at least have to think _at_ the hat, not just have it listen to every passing thought. _"An interesting idea,"_ the sorting hat told him, " _but I'm far too nosy to just ignore what goes on in that head. You used sound logic, however, maybe Ravenclaw is an option after all . . ."_ he trailed off. " _Yes, you do have a lot of intelligence and a lot of magical potential . . . but no, that isn't your most defining quality."_

 _Then what is?_ Merlin directed towards the hat.

 _"You have a lot of loyalty to those you love. That much is clear."_ Merlin's mind instantly jumped to Harry, left alone with the Dursleys. How could he have abandoned him? Clearly Merlin had no loyalty; he didn't know what the hat was talking about. _"Yes, very loyal indeed if you're feeling guilty for just getting an education."_ Merlin bit back a thousand comments about how this wasn't loyalty to Harry, and just let the hat talk at him.

 _"Gryffindor is also a possibility,"_ the hat mused, _"after all; you needed to be brave to survive all those years like you have."_

Merlin breathed deeply, calming himself down before he could get worked up. _I was a coward._ He said simply. _I survived those years by running away and avoiding a fight; there's nothing brave about what I did._

He heard the hat chuckle. " _We seem to have very different opinions on both bravery and loyalty, Emrys. So what about Slytherin? You know, with that big secret of yours you could do well there. And with your power and potential, Slytherin would be the house to teach you how to best use that power."_

 _I have no interest in power,_ He told the hat. But Merlin was starting to panic, it didn't seem like he really belonged to any of the houses.

 _"On the contrary, I'd say that you could belong to all of them. The embodiment of what Hogwarts stands for, the embodiment of magic itself."_ Merlin frowned. Magic itself? What was that supposed to mean? He heard the hat laugh again. " _You'll find out soon enough, young warlock. But for now, I can tell you that you belong in . . ._ HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was a brief moment after he'd taken the hat off that everyone sat in silence, before the Hufflepuff table burst into applause. Merlin went red again but that didn't stop the grin on his face. Making sure to watch his feet as he made his way over to his new table, Merlin took the seat opposite that girl, Freya. The two of them shook hands while a few other people from older years gave him 'Hello's of slaps on the back. And if Merlin's face was slightly strained every time someone clapped is shoulder, well, no one noticed.

Eventually the rest of his year got sorted. Elena Godwin joined Ravenclaw, Leon Knight joined Gryffindor, Morgana Le Fay who was a Slytherin, Gwaine was sorted into Hufflepuff (that was when Merlin clapped his loudest). After his new friend was his new enemy. Arthur Pendragon was his name apparently, and he was sorted into Gryffindor. Merlin really hoped he was wrong and the boy wouldn't hold a grudge. Merlin once again cheered loudly as Mithian was sorted into Slytherin. After her was Gwen Smith who was a Gryffindor, Percy Strong (who looked to be living up to his surname) and was a Ravenclaw, and then both Weasley twins who were sorted as Gryffindors.

There were, of course, many other names of people in his year, but those were the names that ended up sticking in Merlin's memory (for some reason).

As the last name was called the stool and hat was taken away and the headmaster stood. "I'm sure you are all eager for food, so I shall not keep you waiting. Tuck in!" he exclaimed and the golden plates filled before their eyes.

As they settled in for the feast, Merlin was very content to sit with Gwaine at his side. He had been so relieved when at least one of his new found friends had been sorted into the same house as him. It wasn't that he wasn't open to making more friends, but it was nice to have a familiar face, even if that face was only familiar from today.

"This is delicious!" Merlin cried with his mouth still half full of food. A few of the girls pulled faces at the display but Gwaine just laughed and agreed with him whole heartedly.

With Merlin so absorbed in his food it took him a while to notice the odd glances that the other students were throwing his way. And it wasn't even just the first years; some of the older students were doing it too. But when he did notice it set him immediately on edge. His back stiffened and he straightened up in his seat. His entire body was tense.

Gwaine, obviously sensing the sudden change in the boy next to him, turned around enquiringly. "Something the matter, mate?" he asked with a confused frown.

Merlin turned to him with frantic eyes. "Everyone keeps looking at me," he said in a frantic whisper. He knew that he sounded pathetic and panicky but he didn't understand. "Did I do something wrong and really obvious? They all keep glancing at me! It's not like staring or anything, just weird looks. I don't get it, Gwaine, what did I do?" Merlin was really getting himself worked up but he didn't care to stop it. It hadn't even been a full day and he was already drawing unwanted attention to himself. What was it about him that always made him the freak?

Gwaine stared at him for a moment, completely and utterly confused. And then he burst out laughing, right in Merlin's face.

He scowled.

Gwaine just laughed harder. "Look, mate, don't pout." He was _not_ pouting. He was _scowling_. "And relax about the looks you're getting, yeah? People are just curious; it isn't anything malicious or anything like that."

"This isn't about the name thing is it?" Merlin asked, already fed up with his stupid name. He had put up with Harry's light teasing about it for years, but that was just one person, not an entire school.

He just sighed and shook his head with an amused smile. It almost looked like he was indulging Merlin. He didn't like it. "No, it's not your name," Gwaine chuckled. "Have you any idea how long that hat sat on your head for?" Merlin shook his head. "If I had to guess I'd say a good seven minutes. Muttering broke out after two." Merlin's eyes bugged. "People just wanna know what's so special that you broke the hat's record, it isn't anything bad."

Merlin nodded and looked down at his half empty plate. He was a little bit in shock to say anything. It hadn't felt like that long talking to the sorting hat. Sure, they had had some minor disagreements on where to place him, and they spent a little time at the start getting used to the whole mind-reading thing, but it _really_ hadn't felt nearly that long. And he remembered what the hat said about him fitting in all of the houses, maybe that's why it took so long? Maybe he didn't take into consideration every house for each student. Yes, Merlin remembered a few sortings (Arthur's sorting jumped into his mind), where the hat barely touched their heads before their house was called. Okay, so maybe he was a little odd then.

If that was all that it was, the he could handle their staring.

After all, what's one more oddity to add to the growing list.

* * *

The feast was officially over. After a weird enough speech from Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, to convince them all that he was mad, he sent everyone off to bed, being led by the house prefects.

At first they headed in the same direction as the Slytherins, both heading downstairs. Eventually, though, the groups split off and Merlin and Gwaine sent a quick wave to Mithian as she followed her fellow Slytherins down a cold looking corridor. Somehow, the corridor they went down was made to look cosier by the torches in brackets instead of creepier. Merlin wasn't really sure what the differences between the two corridors were, but they both gave off very different vibes.

Eventually the prefect led them to what looked like a very large lid of a barrel. He waited for everyone to have gathered 'round before speaking. "This is the entrance to our common room," he told them. People looked dubiously at the wooden barrel lid. "All of the other common rooms have passwords or riddles to get into their common rooms, we just have to tap out a rhythm. They're usually pretty simple but distinct. You should know that any friends you make in other houses are welcome here. We're Hufflepuffs and we accept all, so there's nothing from stopping anyone from another house from entering. Helga Hufflepuff was the founder most known for promoting inter-house unity, so if any of you make friends with people from other houses, they are always welcome here," he finished with a smile, before demonstrating their passcode, and opened the door for them all.

With a smile on his face at the thought of still being able to stay close friends with Mithian, Merlin entered the common room.

It was very . . . yellow.

There were yellow bricked walls; worn yellow sofas with patches and with the glow of the fire, all of the wooden furniture looked golden-yellow. You would think that it would be too bright or harsh on the eyes, but it just looked like the room glowed. His golden eyes would certainly fit in here. There were also plants everywhere. Any free space was taken up by some sort of greenery, Merlin loved it; he loved nature. There were high round windows that looked to be just above ground level, he was sure that in the morning with the sun streaming in, this place would look wonderful.

He loved his new home. And he loved that it was a place his mother had also once called home.

When they found their dorm rooms, Merlin found his suitcase at the end of his bed and a white kitten curled up in the centre of it. All they beds had wooden frames with yellow and black sheets and yellow hangings around each bed.

He happily curled up with Aithusa by his side, purring away. This was by far the comfiest bed that Merlin had ever slept in, but even still he couldn't sleep. At first he thought it was the magic of Hogwarts. He could literally feel the power buzzing in the air, tingling across his skin, running through his veins. But it wasn't that. He very soon realised that there were two words that seemed to be rotating through his mind . . .

Magic itself . . .

* * *

He was woken the next morning with fur wrapped around his neck. Aithusa had apparently thought that she would make a great scarf. Merlin, however, had to disagree, she was far too ticklish. As annoying as she was, Merlin was loath to mover her when she looked so cute, fast asleep like that. So, instead he just sighed reluctantly and turned his head to the side (hoping that the movement wouldn't jostle her) to try and check the time.

It was 7:15. Lessons started at nine, Merlin knew it would probably take him about fifteen minutes to find his first lesson, and he wanted at least ten minutes to eat his breakfast, not to mention the ten minutes to make his way to the great hall, it would also take him twenty minutes to shower and get changed. That meant that he had to get out of bed at 8:05. This meant that he could leave Aithusa to sleep for fifty minutes more. He was certain that she would appreciate the extra time and he was happy to give it to her.

Okay, so he was weak when it came to his beloved kitten. But you could hardly blame him, she was his first friend (Harry was more a brother than a friend). And not to mention, she was adorable.

As Merlin dozed he felt his mind drift back to the words of the sorting hat, yesterday. He had called him 'magic itself'. Now, Merlin didn't exactly know what that was supposed to mean, but it sure sounded like a bit of a big deal. Maybe it wasn't? What if he was just over thinking everything? Everyone at Hogwarts has magic, maybe they're all magic itself . . . It was plausible. Kind of.

No it wasn't, he chastened himself, it wasn't at all. The hat had said it like it was important. He had told him he was the 'embodiment of what Hogwarts stands for'. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Surely, again, any student with magic embodies Hogwarts, as Hogwarts was a school for magic. Why did the stupid hat have to be so bloody cryptic? It reminded him of . . . well he wasn't sure who or what it reminded him of, but it was damn well familiar.

It wasn't just the being cryptic; it was that phrase, 'young warlock'. He had never heard that before, he was certain. But still, he felt like he should recognise it, like there was a name just beyond his grasp that would provide answers to all of the questions the hat brought up. He had no idea what brought on this familiarity and the sense of certainty that this unknown could provide him with answers. He just knew with a certainty within his soul, like he had with the dragon beneath Gringotts . . .

What if what the hat had said had to do with his other magic? It had all started with that poor dragon, she awoken something within his soul. And it was that same something which was calling out for that familiarity. Being 'magic itself' had to have something to do with his _other_ magic, he was sure of it now. He just had to find some sort of reasoning to back it all up, because gut feeling wasn't going to cut it.

He sighed, realising that he had just given himself homework before any teacher had had the chance to. He really hoped that this place had a good library, because he would be seeing a lot of it.

Deciding that it was time to get up, despite the fact that he had a remaining five minutes of rest, should he want it, Merlin gently moved Aithusa from where she had curled up around his neck and placed her on the mattress beside him. She stretched and yawned from beside him, showing off her excessively sharp claws as she flexed and an array of pointed teeth that he knew she knew how to use (she had once bitten and then scratched Morgause as a gift to Merlin).

He threw is duvet off him and quickly grabbed his things before heading to the bathroom. He briefly debated whether or not he should wake Gwaine and make him get ready, he thought he'd let him sleep a little longer and if he wasn't awake by the time Merlin had showered then he would do something about it.

He hated this part of the day. He hated getting changed. He hated that he could see the marks that Cenred left behind. It wasn't even just the current bruising that covered his ribs and the fading yellow on his cheek, it was the faded scars. He hated that some of what Cenred had done to him would be there forever. He was marked, and he had to face all those marks and be confronted with the memory of how each one happened every morning and every night. He hated his marks. He hated Cenred. And he hated himself for letting it all happen.

And so Merlin faced a new morning in his new home with the same resentment and self-loathing that he had had to face every single other morning that he could remember.

And so he re-opened the bathroom door, steam from the shower following him out, and a fake smile set in place. The false cheer would be enough to fool any of his roommates should they be awake yet. It was a smile he had used successfully many a time to fool Harry into thinking that he was alright and unharmed. If it could work on the boy that he called a brother, it could work on four people who were practically strangers to him.

Only one of the boys was already awake, and Merlin couldn't really remember his name, so he just nodded to him in greeting. Merlin glanced at the clock by his bed, seeing the time was 8:19 he decided that he would try and wake Gwaine, hoping that his new friend would appreciate the gesture of not letting him be late on his first day. Only . . . how was he supposed to go about waking up a stranger? He could open his bed curtains and hope that the light would be enough? He could shake him awake, but Merlin knew that _he_ would certainly hate being woken like that and he didn't want to risk the same with his new friend. Deciding to just throw something seemed like the best plan (well, to Merlin anyway).

So, grabbing a pillow off his bed and chucking it towards Gwaine was exactly what Merlin did. He heard a muffled, "What the hell?" from behind the curtain, and decided that that would be a good time to blind Gwaine with light.

"Rise and shine!" Merlin said cheerily as he opened Gwaine's bed curtains.

Gwaine groaned and rolled over, facing away from where Merlin was stood and was offending is eyes with daylight. "I just _knew_ you'd be an early riser," he grumbled into Merlin's pillow, which he had added to the collection of his own.

Merlin chuckled at him. He looked ridiculous with his bed hair and the pout that was currently on his face. "Come one, you've got to get up," Merlin said with a laugh, "It's almost twenty-five past eight, and if you want breakfast you're gonna need to hurry!"

Gwaine jumped up at the sound of the word 'breakfast'. So apparently he was one who thought with his stomach. Merlin wished he could relate, however a life of being given only scraps and left-overs of other people's food meant that he was fine to go without it for a while. Merlin was still incredibly full from last night's feast.

After Gwaine had gotten dressed they had followed some fifth years to the great hall, Gwaine's stomach rumbling the entire way. After they had arrived, Gwaine ate a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, beans and sausage. And then he'd also grabbed an apple to go. Merlin gad gotten himself a slice of toast and jam, but he didn't end up even eating half of it.

Half way through Gwaine's banquet of a breakfast, a plump, short woman dressed in yellow robes with grey, curly, hair had come over to hand out everybody's timetables. She had introduced herself as Professor Sprout, who was head of Hufflepuff. She didn't spend long talking to them, as she had to give the timetables to everyone in their house, but from their brief interaction Merlin decided that he liked her. She had seemed genuine and kind.

Across at the Gryffindor table, Merlin's eyes were drawn to a small group of boys, all of them laughing, and in the centre was a blond head of hair. They all seemed to be having fun, and they all looked very close for people who had only really known each other for a day. Merlin recognised a few faces from the sorting (and he was pretty sure that those were Mr Weasley's sons as well), but he focused on the boy in the middle. This Arthur seemed a lot less mean when he was laughing and smiling like that. He had a nice smile, Merlin decided.

It was only for a split second that their laughter died down, and blue eyes looked across the room and met his own. He was expecting a scowl, or at least for Arthur to look away, but he didn't. Really, it was Merlin who was the first one to back down. His eyes diverted to the table in front of him, still embarrassed about their meeting the day before.

And before Merlin could contemplate looking back up, Gwaine was nudging him, telling him that they needed to leave for Charms with the Slytherins, and to hurry up so that they could get a seat with Mithian.

And so as Merlin started his first day at Hogwarts, he didn't really think much more of the blond Arthur who had a nice smile.


	6. Good Intentions

**Firstly,I'd like to apologise for the stupidly long wait for this chapter. I wanted to get it up a week after the last one, but for whatever reason, I found it really difficult to actually write anything. So this is like three weeks late or something. Just a heads up, I probably won't ever have a an update schedule, it'll be pretty random.  
**

 **I also want to say a big thank you for all of the reviews. Every time I got a new it was a real motivation to keep trying with this chapter, as well as making me feel guilty for not having written it yet. So, honestly, thank you all so much for the continued support for this story.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Edit: Okay so for this one I've mainly just added a coulple of extra paragraphs about Harry and Merlin's relationship, but that's the only real change.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 6 - Good Intentions  
**

Merlin's first two weeks at Hogwarts were good ones. It felt like it had been so long since he had had such a long period of time full of just pure enjoyment, he couldn't remember a time when it had happened before. But in his first week, Merlin didn't allow himself to dwell on the past. Hogwarts was all about new beginnings for him, and it had turned out to be a _great_ beginning.

He loved almost all of his classes.

Charms was great, it was really interesting and he loved that it was his chance to spend time with Mithian in lessons. Luckily, despite the house divide, both he had Gwaine had stayed close friends with Mithian. Charms was the only lesson that the three of them had together, but outside of classes they were as thick as thieves. Professor Flitwick was a _very_ short man, however his patience was so long that it seemed endless (several charms backfiring during lesson was the proof of that).

Defence Against the Dark Arts was brilliant, too. His professor, Professor Holton, was kind of old and at first seemed boring, but as they got into the subject she had proved to be full of life and clearly loved her subject. Her joy for the class ended up being infectious, and soon all of the students loved it as much as their teacher. They were with the Gryffindors for this class, and while Merlin didn't interact with any of them much, he was building up the courage to talk to the Weasley twins about sending a letter to their father.

Potions was a mixed bag. While Merlin was very good at the subject - he seemed like he'd been making potions for years - and he enjoyed the part of actually creating the potions, but the professor left a lot to be desired. Professor Snape was kind of cruel and seemed to hate all of his students. His reputation among the students was one of fear and hatred. Merlin knew that he was a bully, and Merlin couldn't stand bullies. More than once he had had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something stupid that would anger the professor further. He seemed to take joy in critiquing his students work and offering no help in return. However, Merlin had made a new friend in that class. Lance Du Lac was a quiet Ravenclaw boy, who seemed friendly, if a bit shy, and incredibly kind. He had fit right in with Gwaine and Mithian and Merlin had been relieved that he hadn't had to choose one or the other.

Transfiguration was fantastic as well. McGonagall was a great teacher and didn't seem to favour her own house over them, which relieved many of his fellow Hufflepuffs, who had heard rumours about teachers playing favourites, since they were with Gryffindor for this one. The lesson itself, while seeming complicated in theory, Merlin found incredibly easy. Truth be told, he had found all of his lessons easy. And he still didn't quite know how, but he had known instinctively that the cat perched on the Professor's desk was _not_ to be stroked, and not a cat at all. He was pretty sure that his eyes had flashed gold as he came to that conclusion, but he still didn't quite understand what he had done.

But Herbology was by far Merlin's absolute favourite. He wasn't sure if it was because it was his head of house teaching him, or because he had always loved nature, or if it was because it was his best subject, but Merlin knew without a doubt that he loved it. He had earned his house many points, spouting facts and properties that he didn't know he knew about herbs and plants that he had never even heard of before Hogwarts. Merlin had no idea where this well of knowledge about plants came from, but he and his house mates were thankful for it. It was especially good since it was usually four to a table in Herbology, so Lance could always join him and Gwaine, and his house mate Percy was kind too.

It was only really History of Magic that he didn't like. First of all, it was taught be a ghost, which _really_ freaked Merlin out. It wasn't the fact the he was a ghost that bothered Merlin (how could it be? Hogwarts was full of ghosts), no, it was the rumour about why he was still teaching that got to Merlin. He had once heard the Weasleys discussing in Defence about how he supposedly died one day, didn't even realise, and just kept on teaching as normal. The idea that someone could die without realising it kind of scared Merlin. But second of all, it was _boring_. That might seem like a childish reason, but damn it he was a child. Merlin had expected the class to be interesting, I mean, what doesn't sound interesting about Goblin rebellions? But he was wrong. Professor Bins just went on and on. So Merlin usually spent that lesson passing notes between himself Gwaine and Lance.

And that was exactly what he put in his first letter to Harry. Merlin had been anxious about sending it, worrying if the school owl would be spotted by Cenred in Little Whinging and somehow get Harry into trouble. He knew he was being paranoid. But when it came to Cenred being paranoid was being smart.

It wasn't just Cenred that made him hesitate in sending Harry his letter. It was his friends. For as long as they had known each other, Merlin was all Harry had had, but that had been okay because Harry was all Merlin had too. It was different now. Merlin had met all of these wonderful people who actually seemed to like him. They were kind and fun, and thought he was those things too. Merlin even had Aithusa now, so even when he went back he wouldn't be alone.

He didn't want Harry to think Merlin was replacing him, he had already abandoned him.

But Merlin loved Hogwarts and everything that came with it. He wanted to be able to share that with the most important person in his life. But he also needed to make sure Harry was certain that he was _still and always would be_ that person. And so he had sent his letter (after adding a few paragraphs about how much he missed his little brother) about how much he loved his common room, friends, and almost all his classes.

Yes, Merlin loved almost all of his classes.

And it was on his way out of his most favourite class, Herbology, that he ran into his first real problem at Hogwarts. It also happened to be the same problem that he ran into on the train platform on his first day.

Arthur Pendragon.

He was harassing one of Merlin's roommates, George, for apparently no reason. He was with a few second and third years, looking like he was trying to prove himself or something, but what they were doing was cruel. There were five of them, Arthur clearly leading, all surrounding poor George. His usual friends, Cedric and Sam, who Merlin also shared a room with, seemingly left lesson without him, as they were nowhere in sight. Pendragon and followers were taking turns pushing Morris between them and throwing his school bag over his head and out of his reach, passing it to one another.

Merlin felt his stomach twist. This was bullying. They were bullying him. Merlin had never been able to stand up to the bullies in his own life but that would not stop him now.

For a split second, when Merlin looked upon the scene, he didn't see George and Arthur and his goons. Merlin saw himself. He saw himself surrounded by Cenred and Morgause and Mordred. He knew that this was different; he wasn't an idiot, no matter what he had been told countless times. He knew that he wasn't the one being targeted here, but it was still what he saw. Even if it was just for a second.

"Hey, c'mon, that's enough," Merlin said boldly, drawing their attention (mainly Arthur's) to himself. But it wasn't just them who stared at him, Gwaine did too. That wasn't much of a surprise; in the time that Merlin had known Gwaine he had shown that he preferred to go under the radar, no wonder his friend was surprised, he hated attention. And yet, he had just brought himself to the centre of it.

"What?" Arthur asked incredulously, obviously not expecting to be stood up to.

"You've had your fun, my friend." Merlin tried to be non-confrontational, he really did. He tried to call Arthur _friend_ , even though he was being a giant prat. He really wasn't looking for a fight. Beside him, Gwaine snorted at his tactics.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asked. He turned away from George then, trying to look intimidatingly at Merlin. He could see his friend biting back a smile.

"I'm Merlin," he tries to introduce; holding out his had to be shaken. It reminded him of when he stood on a train platform, offering a blond boy he just knocked over and hand up.

And just like the occasion before, it was rejected. "So I don't know you," Arthur said, looking haughtily at the offered hand.

"Well I did crash into you on a train platform," Merlin muttered under his breath, not loud enough for Arthur to hear, as he didn't really think the reminder would help the situation at all. It was, however, loud enough for Gwaine, who once again snorted at Merlin. He tried not to roll his eyes at him.

"And yet you call me friend . . ." Arthur carried on, oblivious to Merlin's interjection.

He looked threateningly at Merlin, enough so that he felt Gwaine tense beside him. Merlin had to fight the instinct to run and cower, to oblige to his old rules and apologise for everything and nothing, to hide behind Gwaine, who was clearly stronger and more fearless than he was. But he didn't do that, not any of them. He couldn't. Not this time. Because this time he wasn't fighting for himself. This time it wasn't Cenred in front of him. It was Arthur. And Arthur Pendragon may be a bully, but he had nothing on the bullies that Merlin had been dealing with for years.

"You're right," Merlin said with a false calm settling over him. His face was a mask of deadly seriousness. "I'd never have a friend who could be such an arse."

Gwaine chocked on air. The small crowd that had gathered at the impending altercation all gasped lightly, theirs eyes widening in shock (it was rare to hear a first year swear, after all). The threatening smirk that had worked its way on to Arthur's face fell at that moment. He glanced worried behind him, obviously searching for backup. Merlin was glad to see that his followers were not getting involved and that George had used his distraction to run off.

"Y- you can't address me like that!" Merlin raised his eyebrows at Pendragon; his expression was clearly a question saying 'why not?' He was outraged. Confused as well, Merlin thought, it seemed like no one had ever stood up to Arthur Pendragon before. "Have you any idea who my father is?" He laughed derisively at them, "I'm the son of _Uther Pendragon_!"

Gwaine laughed and shook his head at Arthur. Coming from a pureblood family, Merlin trusted him to know what he was talking about. "That name might mean something in the muggle world, Princess," Gwaine snickered, "but you're in the wizarding world now; your father's name doesn't mean anything here. And even if your father was important, that wouldn't mean that you can bully who you want."

Merlin smiled at his friend. He had made no remark before that, and Merlin had thought that maybe Gwaine didn't think he was doing the right thing, but his support then was enough for Merlin.

With one last glare in both of their directions (more at Gwaine than Merlin, probably because he'd called him ' _Princess_ '), Arthur stormed off, but not before pushing Merlin to the ground as he stormed past them. Merlin was shocked that Arthur had used brute force rather than a spell to push past them; then again, it was clear that Pendragon had been raised by muggles. Despite Gwaine's obvious wish to punch Arthur in the nose, he decided that checking on Merlin would be more important. In his hasty escape, Arthur didn't realise that he brushed past one Professor McGonagall, who looked livid.

Her lips were compressed into a thin line. "Mr Emrys, Mr Orkney, my office please."

Gwaine helped Merlin stand. He was not oblivious to the way that Merlin held his side slightly as they trailed after the Professor.

However, as they walked, Merlin's mind was not on his aching ribs (which had still not recovered from the bruising left there by Cenred on his departure from Privet drive). No, his thoughts were on the arrogant prat who had pushed him over. He couldn't believe that he once thought that . . . that . . . that _clotpole_ had a nice smile. What the hell was he thinking? Arthur Pendragon was clearly a pompous idiot and a complete and utter prat.

* * *

The pair of them sat on wooden chairs in front of McGonagall's large desk, feeling quite small. Her angry and disappointed glare was definitely something to cower from. She hadn't said much to them, just instructed them to sit down while they waited for Professor Sprout and Pendragon to arrive, and then she just sat staring at them with her arms crossed.

Merlin, at least, looked ashamed at being dragged into the deputy-head's office. Gwaine, however, had the gall to look totally unabashed. He was sat there with a small smirk on his face while Merlin altered between looking down at his hands and staring at his friend in horror. He hadn't known Gwaine for long, but it was long enough for Merlin to gather that he was a trouble maker, and that meant that this situation wasn't anything new to him.

When Professor Sprout came in with Arthur Pendragon the atmosphere was tense. And it was only when she turned her disappointed gaze on the two of them, that Gwaine finally looked a tiny bit guilty.

 _Pendragon_ , though, didn't look the tiniest bit cowed. He strut past Professor Sprout and took the empty seat next to Merlin, not once looking at anyone in the room, just keeping his head high and a sneer fixed on his face. There was a long silent moment where Professor McGonagall glared solely at her house member, without eliciting any reaction from him, her lips becoming a thinner and thinner line by the second.

"Right," Professor Sprout said, breaking the steadily building tension in the room. "Which one of you boys want to tell us exactly what happened?" She moved past them, so that she stood beside McGonagall, behind the desk.

Immediately, Gwaine and Pendragon went off on their own tangents. Arthur was entirely blaming Merlin, Gwaine was entirely blaming Arthur. Merlin thought it best to keep his mouth shut this time, seeing as it was what got him into this mess in the first place.

He couldn't believe he had gone against his rules like that. He knew, rationally, that those were intended to help him survive Cenred, not just any bully that he came across. But how could he be so stupid? What if this was one of those schools whose punishments were physical? He had just escaped that life, and now he might have just thrust himself into a similar situation all over again.

Merlin hadn't noticed while he was sorting through his inner turmoil, but the voices coming from either side of him had been growing louder and louder, just like the voice in his head had started screaming what a mess he'd made of things. Yet, somehow, Professor McGonagall managed to put a stop to all of the voices at once.

"Enough!" she shouted, resulting in shutting both Gwaine's and Pendragon's mouths shut. There was silence for a few seconds before she turned to Merlin. "Mr Emrys, you seem quiet about the whole situation. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Merlin swallowed nervously, as he heard Pendragon's annoyed huff from next to him. He looked anxiously at Professor McGonagall, before moving his gaze to Professor Sprout's encouraging smile.

"Pendragon and some others - I don't know who they are - looked like they were picking on George. I don't know him very well, but he looked like he needed some help. I asked them - mainly Pendragon - to leave him alone, and it sort of escalated from there. He was being really obnoxious, so I- I- I called him an arse." Merlin winced as he admitted it. It really wasn't sounding good for him. "Um, Arthur got defensive and mentioned his father - that was when Gwaine got involved, told him his family name didn't entitle him to treating others badly. Then Pendragon shoved past us and then we notice _you_ , Professor, had caught the end of what happened."

Merlin was proud of himself. He'd stayed reasonable calm, and managed to tell the story honestly casting all of them in a fair light. He didn't even think that Pendragon could deny any of what he said. He was sure he had been fair.

When he looked, he saw both boys nod to the Professors, confirming his story to them both.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. "In that case, I think I'll take fifteen house points each for starting an altercation, and detention for Pendragon and Emrys, Pendragon for bullying and Emrys for foul language. Pomona?"

Professor Sprout nodded, "Yes, Minerva I think that is a fitting punishment. And I believe Severus needs someone to clean out some of his cauldrons."

Merlin tried to focus on the fact that it was weird to hear teachers use each other's first names, rather than the relief sweeping through him at the fact that he wasn't going to get beaten. Even the thought of detention with both Snape _and_ Pendragon, couldn't stop the relieved breath he released.

With the weight of his fear being lifted from his shoulders, his body made him uncomfortably aware of the pain in his side. He figured he must have landed on it funny when Pendragon pushed past him. However, he couldn't bring himself to really blame the other boy, knowing that it was mostly what was left over from Cenred's goodbye gift.

"Boys report to Professor Snape's office this Saturday at midday for detention." Merlin and Arthur nodded. "You're dismissed, but Mr Emrys stay a moment."

Arthur got up and walked out without sparing any of them a glance. Gwaine got up to leave much slower, sending Merlin a questioning look, to which he shrugged in confusion. But what was more unnerving was that was that Professor Sprout was confused about what was going on as well.

Once the other two had left the office, both Merlin and his head of house looked to Professor McGonagall for some sort explanation. For whatever reason, it put a hesitant look on her face, something that seemed entirely out of place on the usually confident and composed Professor. She managed to shake the look off quickly, but Merlin had seen it and it filled him with a sense of dread.

"Professor, what is this about?" he asked nervously, his entire frame had tensed up.

She gave him a rare smile, and that calmed him a little. "I wanted to see if you needed to see Madame Pomfrey, the schools nurse; you were holding your side as if you were in pain," she said simply.

Merlin felt himself tense up again. His gut instinct was to deny everything and blurt out a symphony of false assurances and flat out lies. Cenred had taught him that people asking questions were never a good thing. Anyone who went to Cenred with concern over Merlin was ignored and Merlin was given some more creative punishments. He had learned to just deny any harm or injury to adults who might make their way back to his uncle.

But before he could start shaking his head and sprouting denials, McGonagall carried on speaking. "I saw Mr Pendragon shove you, and thought it may have been a little harsher than I had first thought if you were in some degree of pain." The way she said had Merlin feeling anxious. It was a perfectly valid thought process, but Merlin knew she had picked up some of what was going on from when she visited him at home. He didn't trust this. He didn't trust _her_.

"N- No," he said, haltingly, "I'm fine." She narrowed her eyes at him disbelievingly, and even Professor Sprout had a concerned look on her face. "It's probably just a small bruise," he said in a compromise. She had seen his pain, there was no getting out of that, now he just had to try and play it down as much as possible. He couldn't believe his mistake. He'd had years of practice at hiding this stuff from teachers and classmates, when he was doing this properly only Harry could see through it, but he'd somehow forgotten all of his lessons and rules in the space of only two weeks.

"If it's just a small bruise then I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will fix it with no problem," McGonagall said reasonably, but there was a gleam in her eyes that showed victory. It was a look he'd seen in Cenred's eyes after some particularly damaging work. He hated the comparison.

Before he'd realised it, he was out of his chair and slowly backing away, shaking his head frantically. He couldn't. _They_ couldn't. Cenred would know, he'd find out. Then he'd be taken away from Hogwarts. No! They couldn't, he wouldn't let them!

He felt his breathing getting shallower and shallower.

He finally felt safe here, why did they have to ruin it? Things were fine! He was happy. Gwaine was making him safe. He could use his magic without being worried about the consequences. He wasn't always looking over his shoulder for danger. He wasn't busy ducking and dodging every limb coming his way. He was _happy_. They were ruining it. Why were they ruining it?

He hadn't quite realised that he had was slumped on the floor with his back to the wall, but he knew he had tears in his eyes. He felt a hand close around his shoulder and it was when he tried to moving backwards away from it that his head slammed into the wall. He bit his lip to stop from crying out. Cenred didn't like him making too much noise (it might alert the neighbours, he was always told. Though not the Dursleys, of course, they couldn't have cared less about what happened to him).

He felt someone grab his hands, obviously trying to calm him down, anchoring him to something outside of his own head, but it wasn't working. The gentle hands around his just felt like manacles, they were suffocating him, he couldn't breathe. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone, he wanted to be able to breathe again. It was like, the closer they were, the more of his air they were using up. Just their presence was choking him.

He just needed them _away_.

His eyes flashed a solid gold and he knew nothing more.

* * *

Minerva didn't know what to do when Merlin started panicking. She had seen him react similarly a few times when he was grabbed rather suddenly and needed convincing that he was safe, but it was nothing compared to this. At least she had some reference for it; Pomona was thrown in the deep end, poor woman.

She didn't even know what had set him off. She had only suggested him going to visit Poppy for a check-up. A part of her had been convinced that there would be physical evidence of his abuse at home, and that would give her the evidence to take it to the headmaster and have the child removed from his uncle. She knew there was no way for him to talk his way out of it, she had seen an opportunity and taken it. It was all done in the boy's best interest and she had no idea how it had backfired.

She was fairly certain that it was a panic attack that Merlin had gone into. And no matter what they tried, gentle touches or reassuring words from Pomona, none of it had helped at all. If anything they had made things worse.

But by the time they had realised their mistake and were trying to back away, the noticed the furniture in the room and the windows had started rattling and shifting slightly. This had greatly alarmed them both, that he was in a state enough to perform wandless magic. But Minerva had known better, she had checked, and seen the boy's eyes flickering between blue and gold. Neither colour was consistent for anything serious to happen, but the effect was visible.

Minerva had sent a patronus to Dumbledore, urgently, telling him of the situation and to hurry down. Her next move would have been to sedate the child with magic but she didn't get that far.

His eyes flashed a solid gold and she knew nothing more.


	7. Dumbledore and Detention

**Thank you for all the positive responses I've been getting for this story. Everyone has been really supportive and encouraging in their reviews and i just wanted to say a big thanks! And another thank you to _wecanflyawaytoGalifrey_ who was kind enough to leave a review after every chapter they read, honestly it meant so much seeing someone put the time in like that to let me know how much they're enjoying the story.**

 **Again, apologies for the long update time, but I have had all my AS exams in college and needed to do some work on those.**

 **Anyways, enjoy the next chapter!**

 **Edit: Okay so the main change here was during Merlin's freak out. I also mention Lance a lot more, I wanted him to seem closer to Merlin than what I originally wrote.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 7 - Dumbledore and Detention  
**

When Merlin woke up his head hurt. Actually, everything hurt. There was a dull ache across his entire body and a sharp stabbing pain in the back of his head.

The first conclusion he drew was Cenred. This idea, however, was discarded quickly; it was too different. Usually, there was a concentrated amount of pain in several different places, and then a general ache everywhere else. But there was currently only a real pain in his head, and Cenred was not one to stop so quickly after so little damage. But, then again, he couldn't really remember what had happened, so maybe there was damage enough.

He realised after a few short moments that he wasn't with Cenred anymore, he was at Hogwarts. This led him to his second conclusion, that he had pissed off the wrong student or the wrong teacher and this was what he had earned himself. Dread formed in his stomach as he thought _Have I managed to ruin it already? Is that all it took? Two weeks for them to realise that I'm not worth being here?_

He wanted to deny it instantly. He wanted to tell himself that he had friends here, and that they were always so nice and kind. Gwaine and Mithian and Lance, they wouldn't turn him away. They were such good people; even if they decided not to be his friend anymore they wouldn't just watch him get hurt. Friends didn't do that to each other.

But then, family wasn't supposed to do that to each other either. Maybe he just had that effect on people. He had spent too much time with Gwaine and Mithian, and this was his punishment. Maybe normally, they were too good of people to watch someone get hurt, but he was the exception. Maybe he had bugged them and they'd just gotten so sick of him that they watch him get hurt?

He hated the tears trailing down his face. He hated that he had allowed himself to believe he deserved a real friendship. He was _stupid_. He had known, he had _always_ known, that he couldn't rely on anyone but Harry. Why had he let himself ever believe otherwise?

Part of him was still screaming that he didn't know what had happened, that he didn't know why he was hurt. There could be a million explanations. And, yes, there could be, but Merlin's mind had already latched on to the most likely one. He had never been gifted friends before, only a brother. He didn't know what to think or who to blame. Himself, probably.

He tried, again, to swallow down the fear and paranoia. _You aren't in that house anymore, and not everyone's a monster like him_.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. It was obviously night time, but that didn't help him figure out how long he had been unconscious, seeing as he had no idea what had happened in the first place.

He really wished Aithusa was with him. He felt like she was maybe the only one in the whole castle who he could trust. She was the only one he wanted with him. The comfort of her soft fur against his cheek and her rumbling purr vibrating next to him was the only thing he wanted in that moment. Well, that, and to know what happened.

Deciding to just shut his eyes and deal with everything in the morning, Merlin fell asleep. And if he cried himself to sleep, well it was dark, who could see the tears on his cheeks anyway?

* * *

When Merlin woke up next there was enough light filtering the high windows for him to observe his surroundings properly. It looked like he was in some kind of hospital, probably the school's infirmary. He could see that all of the other beds in the large room were unoccupied.

Now that he could see properly, he took the opportunity to assess any injuries. There were no new bruises that he could see, and nothing felt broken or sprained. The only thing that made him certain something had happened at all was the lingering ache in the back of his head and his subsequent memory loss.

He hadn't managed to do more than sit up and throw his legs around the side of the bed before a woman came bustling over to him, ranting about how he should be careful and how he shouldn't be getting out of bed yet. In one simple move she had him turned around, lying down again and a glass of water in his hand.

"What happened?" he asked cautiously. He remembered the conclusions that he had drawn up last night, but he was reassuring himself that those ideas had come from his panic and disorientation, he would not believe them without some sort of proof or his own memories backing it up.

He saw her eyes narrow slightly, probably making a mental note of his memory loss, before she answered, "Drink first, questions later." She had said it in a tone that brooked no argument, no doubt used to stubborn patients. Merlin decided to just do as she asked, hoping it would give him his answers sooner.

He downed the glass in one go, then wiped the side of his mouth on his pyjama sleeve (he took a moment to wonder if someone had had to change him out of his school robes and into his pyjamas before dismissing the thought, deciding that he didn't want to know).

"What happened?" he asked again.

She gave him a disapproving frown, obviously not appreciating his rush for answers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He _needed_ to know what had happened. The longer he was left in the dark, the worse the situations were that his mind conjured up. He'd gotten as far as imagining Cenred breaking into Hogwarts and coming after him in the middle of a Herbology lesson, all because he's missed his favourite punching bag. He knew that he was being irrational (if only for the fact that, if that was the case, he would be in a lot more pain), but he couldn't bring his mind to pause and think clearly.

"There was an incident in Professor McGonagall's office," she answered curtly. "You, and both Professors Sprout and McGonagall were unconscious when the headmaster arrived, and the room was in chaos. Both Professors awoke quickly and have spoken to the headmaster about what happened, I have not been privy to the specifics of the situation, only been informed that you had a panic attack before being rendered unconscious."

Merlin breathed deeply a few times, suspicions already forming in his mind. He said a quick, "Thank you," and accepted the second glass of water she gave him without comment, drinking this one noticeably slower.

A few of the things she said sounded familiar to him. He remembered being in the office and the spat he'd had with Arthur Pendragon beforehand. He also remembered feeling panicked and overwhelmed, but he couldn't remember the reason for it, nor could he remember how that had resulted in his unconsciousness.

He had the idea that maybe the Professors had knocked him out to keep him calm, but that didn't explain how the Professors had ended up being unconscious. And he had no idea why they would both recover so much faster than he had, assuming that it was the same thing that had caused them all to lose consciousness.

But despite his on-going confusion, Merlin couldn't help the relief that flooded him. He knew he had been in hysterics when he had awoken the night before, his mind going to Gwaine and Mithian, of all people, to blame. He was so relieved that his panic-fuelled thoughts had been proved wrong. Now all he was left with was a heavy layer of guilt. How could he have assumed that of his friends? They had done nothing to give the idea that they were getting fed up of him. He felt sick to his stomach; the relief was quickly being replaced by shame.

Merlin decided that he would definitely leave this incident out of his next letter to Harry.

He had tried asking what was going on back in Little Whinging at the end of his last one (he had sent it after his first day, telling Harry about the houses and the sorting) but his question had always been ignored, the returning letter was just full of questions about magic and life at Hogwarts. Merlin had tried to reassure himself that no news was good news, and that surely Harry would have told him if things there were worse than normal. And then Merlin though on his own stubbornness to leave this incident out of their letters and decided that perhaps Harry's reluctance to talk about home spoke for itself.

Too caught up in his own worrying thoughts, he hadn't realised the presence of another until someone cleared their throat pointedly.

Merlin looked over, to the side of his bed, to see the headmaster watching him with curiosity. Merlin felt himself blush under the scrutiny. He was once again drawn to those eyes that reminded him so much of his own, full of some sort of understanding that - ironically - Merlin didn't understand.

"S- Sorry," he stuttered out, belatedly, only then realising that he had just silently stared at the man for far too long to be considered comfortable, "I was just thinking."

"No matter," Professor Dumbledore said with a kind smile, "I, too, often find myself too caught up in my own thoughts to notice the goings on around me. "

Merlin nodded and smiled falsely, for some reason feeling on edge. "Is there something I can help you with, Professor?" he asked, not managing to effectively hide his anxiousness.

"Yes," he said simply. "I wish to discuss with you the events that occurred in Professor McGonagall's office yesterday."

Merlin felt himself tense up. "Right," he said hollowly. He had known that this wasn't exactly a social call, but he was hoping he could put off any sort of interrogation until he at least remembered what actually happened.

"There was incredibly powerful magic at work yesterday and, based on what your Professors McGonagall and Sprout told me, you were the cause of it. Now this isn't the first time I've been told of your powerful and out of control magic, Merlin, there was something about Gringotts and a dragon, I believe," he said calmly.

Merlin felt his breathing hitch and his heart stutter, a thousand denials on the tip of his tongue. All of them were stopped by Dumbledore casually waving his hand through the air in between them, in a throw-away gesture. He took a few deep breaths before simply saying, quietly, "I don't know what happened, sir."

"That does not surprise me, Mr Emrys," Dumbledore said, as he rested one of his hands over Merlin's (which he hadn't realised were shaking), "especially since I'm not entirely certain of what happened, myself."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Merlin wasn't an idiot; he had heard his classmates talking about how Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be one of the most powerful wizards of their time. And . . . somehow . . . he didn't know what was happening to Merlin?

Well, he supposed, that certainly explained why all of his own attempted research in the Library hadn't turned out any answers. The words, 'Magic Itself' hadn't stopped circling in his mind. What the sorting hat had said left him with a yearning to understand. And of course the words themselves weren't much to go on, so Merlin and tried to find a link to his other magic, trying to find mention of wizards with golden eyes. Except . . . if Albus Dumbledore didn't know what was going on, then he had no chance.

"But . . . you said it was powerful magic," Merlin started - deciding that, for now, he was going to ignore that it was _him_ doing this powerful magic. "And, well, you're powerful," he continued awkwardly, "shouldn't you, y'know, _know_."

The Headmaster chuckled softly, but Merlin could read the fear of the unknown that was present in his eyes. "Yes, I should."

They sat in a tense silence for a short while. Merlin just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Dumbledore was stumped. This was a man who had been teaching for years, far longer than Merlin had even been alive, and even _he_ didn't know what was wrong with Merlin.

* * *

Albus didn't know what to think. The boy, this _child_ , had displayed more raw power than he had seen in his life. He was stronger than both the powers of Voldemort and Grindelwald perhaps combined, and he had hardly come into his magic yet.

He could either be a great ally or a terrible enemy.

Albus had taken that gamble before, he had sworn to keep an eye on Tom Riddle, and in the end he had still been unable to stop his rise to power. His own incompetency had been the cause of his reign of terror. Albus couldn't allow that to happen for a second time.

But this child in front of him, he had no malice in him. He was alone and scared in a world that (if Minerva was correct) had only ever mistreated him, and he had yet to show even an ounce of darkness. Yes, he had the potential to be someone terrible, but right now, he was just a lost little boy.

"Merlin," he said, startling the boy out of his own head, "I will find a way to help you control whatever this is," he promised. "I just need to find out what it is. What can you tell me about it?"

He saw the boy pause, considering. "It started with the dragon," he began quietly. "She- She was chained up and hurting, and I could feel her crying out to me . . . she was in so much pain. She kept asking, begging, for me to help her. I tri- I _tried_ to, but the Professor kept holding me back. Every hurt she had, every pain she felt - I felt it too. It was like my soul was burning."

Albus hadn't realised until the child had paused, but the more he'd spoken, the more he had remembered, the more pain he was feeling, the more a steady wind built up in the infirmary. There was nothing to notice at first, just a breeze, as if a window had been left open. Then it was more. It kept building until it whipped the hair around their heads. And when he looked back at the boy, his bright blue eyes were different, they were rimmed with gold.

"I wanted to help her, I _needed_ to," he carried on, oblivious to his headmaster's awe. "I don't even know what I did; I just needed the pain to stop. I- I remember feeling, sort of, free, like I was flying. It didn't feel like it at the time, I was so wrapped up in another creature's torture, but I remember now. It was like I had let go of something I've been clinging to my entire life. I felt exhausted afterwards, completely drained, but I felt lighter than I ever had been before." He looked directly at Albus then, for the first time in the entire conversation, and he was struck by how familiar they were. "Do you understand?" he asked quietly. As he calmed down, the wind calmed with him.

"Not quite," he answered honestly. "But I did notice that as you spoke about what happened, you performed this magic again, your eyes had started to turn gold, did you realise?" The boy shook his head.

It was interesting. Interesting that he could do so much without even realising it. It happened often in muggleborn children, who had no idea of magic, never mind how to recognise it. But for a child who's known about their own magic for most of their life, and to have been studying it for several weeks already, it shouldn't have been possible. Accidental magic was something that might still happen for a few years to come for some children (even then it is rare, and only in emotional circumstances), but this was far too different. It was as if they were dealing with a completely different type of magic.

. . . And what was it that he had said about the dragon? Yes, he might be on to something there.

"Merlin, I have an idea, but I don't want to get your hopes up," he said carefully. "I will look into this and you should try to relax, I believe strong emotions may trigger the magic." He was halfway out of the door before he turned around to say, "Oh, and don't forget about your detention with Professor Snape."

Albus debated with himself as he left, as to whether or not he should have explained more about his idea. The Emrys line was known to have once been Dragonlords, if such a thing ever existed, and it was only the dragons that still lived off the Old Magic. Well, perhaps, the dragons, and one little boy.

As he walked down the corridor, he realised that he hadn't managed to broach the subject of the boy's home life, as Minerva had asked of him. But, then again, with such strong magic being tied solely to the child's emotions, perhaps it was better to avoid the subject for now - at least until the child had started to learn some control over his gifts.

* * *

After his talk with the headmaster and the incident in McGonagall's office, Merlin had expected his life at Hogwarts to have changed somewhat. It didn't.

No one seemed to have noticed anything had happened at all. Students thought that the catastrophe in McGonagall's office had been a spell gone wrong and both she and Professor Sprout had just been caught in the backlash. Everyone knew that there had been a student there as well, but nobody seemed to know - or care – who it was.

That is, other than Gwaine, Mithian and Lance. They were his friends, so of course they had noticed his absence for a day and a half. Luckily lessons had been over for the week by that point, so none of his classmates had figured anything out. And his absence in their dormitory had just been explained away as him getting to bed late and waking up early; luckily Merlin had always been an early riser, so it wasn't that much of a stretch for his house mates to believe.

But Gwaine was relentless. Merlin couldn't really explain what had actually happened in the office, especially since he was still rather confused about the whole matter, even with his memory returned. His friend, however, could not take no for an answer. Lance had remained silent on the subject and Mithian had tried to get him to back off, it hadn't worked very well.

 _"He's our friend, we should know!"_

 _"Then respect your friend's privacy!"_

 _"Friends shouldn't have secrets, Mith!"_

 _"He's barely known us a month, give him time!"_

 _"Guys, please."_

It had technically been their first argument, and he had hated that it he had been the cause of it. After that, Gwaine had changed his tactics to only asking when Mithian wasn't around to criticize him, easily ignoring Lance's disapproving stare whenever he was witness to it. That had left him most of the time to bug Merlin about what had happened. There had been several nights where Merlin (and presumably their other roommates) had found himself unable to sleep because of Gwaine's non-stop chatter. He had, at one point, thought that the tactics had changed into annoying him into submission. He had tried just making something up to satisfy his friend, but he had always been a pretty terrible liar.

Merlin didn't think, looking back on his detention with Snape, that he would see it as a reprieve. It most certainly hadn't felt like it at the time.

He had only been out of the infirmary for about an hour or so, he had quickly stopped to have lunch and been briefly interrogated by Gwaine, before rushing off for his midday detention. And the last thing he thought he needed after that whirlwind of a morning was an afternoon with Arthur Pendragon. But, alas, he had no say in the matter, and he was hardly going to skip a detention just because of that.

If Merlin was completely honest with himself, it wasn't really Pendragon that he was worried about. Sure, he was a prat, and he had shoved Merlin the other day, but he felt like the least of his troubles. No, the problem was Snape.

He knew now that it was unlikely that they would allow a teacher to strike one of the students at Hogwarts, but he also knew that if anybody seemed capable of it, it was Snape. He had decided on a very simple plan for this detention: keep his mouth shut (Like rule no. one, but this Snape instead of Mordred). As much as he hated the idea of it, Merlin thought that when Snape was involved, it might be a good idea to employ the rules he had with Cenred.

It was odd, really. Merlin was good at potions, so he had never really had any troubles with the Professor. And he knew, even if they weren't in class, that Snape tended to save his real bigotry for the Gryffindors. Merlin hadn't been shouted at or scolded by the Potions Master at all. But still . . . there was just something about the man that freaked Merlin out. It was as if he could sense this odd darkness to him.

So caught up in his musings on Severus Snape, Merlin didn't manage to catch himself before walking directly into Arthur Pendragon's back. And it was only a hand clenching around his upper-arm that stopped him from losing his balance entirely. And it was that same hand closed around him that caused him to panic blindly, throwing the other person's hand off and hurling himself as far away from the offending hand, and its owner, as possible.

And that was how he ended up flat on his arse, in a deserted corridor, with Pendragon looking at him as if he was a lunatic.

"Still as incompetent as ever, I see," he remarked in a dead-pan voice. Well, as dead-pan as one can sound with a voice crack in the middle of their sentence. Merlin managed himself a small smile before he had his classmate's glare turned on him.

"And still as much as a prat as ever," Merlin shot back, pushing himself up off the floor and brushing down any dust from his robes.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not -"

"Still bullying, Pendragon?" A voice drawled from the previously empty doorway, "Now that won't do. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, now both of you, get inside." There was a cruel smirk in place on his face as he watched Arthur physically bite back a retort to try to defend himself.

A small part of Merlin wanted to speak up, tell the Professor that it wasn't _just_ Arthur's fault, but he _had_ started. He opened his mouth to say something but he was greeted by Snape's single enquiring eyebrow and that cruel smile turned on him, and then he remembered his rules and decided that silence was probably the best way to go about this.

He shut his mouth and walked through the doorway, ready to face the next few hours of torture.

* * *

Arthur didn't really know what to think of this Emrys character.

The kid was weird, anyone could see that. And he was definitely clumsy. Unfortunately for Arthur, he had been greeted with that aspect of his personality more times than he would have liked. He was certainly brave as well, Arthur was clearly much bigger than him, and yet he hadn't hesitated to stand up for that other Hufflepuff. And there was that weird thing with the sorting hat as well, as if he was something special.

And what the hell was that, when Arthur tried to stop him falling over, and he just flipped out? That was hardly normal behaviour. And speaking of not-normal, Arthur _knew_ he was behind whatever happened in Professor McGonagall's office. There were five of them in there, then he and that half-wit, Gwaine, leave and a few minutes later someone says that the office was blown to bits and two staff members and a student are unconscious. Arthur's no idiot.

Although, he doesn't _look_ like he was just knocked on conscious yesterday, even if he has knocked himself onto his own arse.

He was just so many different things; Arthur had no idea what to think of him.

"Still as incompetent as ever, I see." It didn't come out as smooth as he wanted, and he prayed to God that Emrys hadn't noticed his voice crack. If that smile he was failing to hide was anything to go by, he had. Arthur glared at him until he stopped.

"And still as much of a prat as ever."

Did Arthur forget to mention rude. And sarcastic, and idiotic, and pratish – yeah, _he_ was the _prat_ , not Arthur – and a thousand other things that were most certainly not positive.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not -"

"Still bullying, Pendragon? Now that won't do. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, now both of you, get inside."

A small part of Arthur was glad at being interrupted by Snape, since he really didn't have an end to that insult. But the other part of him (the majority, obviously) wanted to shout and curse that they had both been arguing, and that it wasn't _just_ him. Wisely, Arthur bit back his defence and let his shoulders slump as he made his way into the potion's classroom.

When Arthur looked over his shoulders he saw Emrys's eyes dart from him to Snape, he looked like he was debating whether or not to speak up for _him_. And even though he decided not to, it was a lot more than Arthur would have done if the shoe was on the other foot.

Perhaps this _Mer_ lin wasn't so bad after all. And well, his smile, even when it had been at his expense, was kind of nice . . .

But he was still an idiot.


	8. Arthur Pendragon

**Hey! So, I'm sorry that it's been like nine months since the last upload. I'm clearly very bad at keeping to any sort of schedule.**

 **I wanted to say a massive thank you for all reviews and any new favourites and follows I've received in this very long gap between chapters. I am eternally grateful for any and all support I've received from everyone, and so very thankful for the people who haven't given up on me or this fic. All reviews, believe it or not, did actually motivate me to try and get back into writing this, so thank you all for reviewing this. And of course all feedback whether positive or constructive is welcome and appreciated.**

 **I also wanted to mention that there is a poll on my user page, if people wouldn't mind voting in it, it would be much appreciated.**

 **Anyway, onward with the story!**

 **Edit: I added a little more onto Arthur's history. Expanded on his relationship with Morgana and Uther than what I first did, but that's the only real change.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 8 - Arthur Pendragon  
**

Okay, so maybe detention wasn't that bad. Maybe and just maybe, it didn't turn out half as bad as Merlin expected it would. And that's not to say it was good, only that Merlin had incredibly low expectations of how his day would go.

After Snape ushered them into the classroom, Merlin could feel Arthur's eyes burning holes in the back of his head. It wasn't a particularly comfortable feeling.

"There will be absolutely no talking, and certainly no fighting," Snape began, after they had taken their seats. "For today's detention you will be scrubbing cauldrons. Most mixtures are completely harmless, however you should clean your scrubbing brush when changing cauldrons; mixing the potions may be dangerous." The professor continued to drone on about the one thousand and one rules he had in place during detention and Merlin listened half-heartedly not wanting to get caught out and land himself in more trouble, but not really focussing either.

Snape long droning voice kind of made Merlin want to doze off, and he could see that he wasn't the only one fighting that particular struggle. By the dazed look on Pendragon's face, he certainly wasn't winning that particular fight.

The work itself was incredibly dull. They were forced to clean without the aid of magic, not that either of them would even know any spells for it this earlier in their Hogwarts careers. In any case, it took a lot longer than it could have done for Snape to just spell them clean. Eventually, even Professor Snape got bored and just left them to it.

He strode out of the room purposefully, not sparing a glance at either boy.

An awkward silence spread through the room now that Snape's imposing presence, usually being the only thing one could possibly notice, was gone. Merlin tried to send a timid smile over to the other boy's way but Pendragon wasn't looking at him. Merlin couldn't quite decide if he was being ignored or if the other was just completely oblivious. One meant Pendragon was a prat, the other meant he was an idiot, so either way it was a win in Merlin's book.

They carried on like that for quite some time, Arth- Pendragon looking half asleep while scrubbing cauldrons and Merlin quietly observing while getting on with his share of the workload. Pendragon looked like he hadn't cleaned a day in his life; even Merlin could see from a few tables across that half of his cauldrons still had traces of potions left behind in them. Merlin could do this fine. He was good at cleaning. Half his life had previously been spent practicing this very chore. It wasn't a difficult detention task, just a boring one.

The monotony was interrupted by Merlin's senses going haywire. He had, over time, developed a sense of coming danger that had proven itself to be infinitely useful in the years past. It was a skill born out of necessity. However, Merlin had no idea what could have set him so on edge. He glanced around checking to see if perhaps Professor Snape had returned silently and unwittingly made him anxious, but there was nothing. He could find no cause for his 'funny feeling'.

Until . . .

There was the tiniest sound. A sort of fizzing. He could just barely hear it. Any other time he would have dismissed it for his imagination or something insignificant, but combined with his need for alertness, he knew something was wrong. It was very slowly yet steadily getting louder

"Do you hear that?" Merlin asked in a harsh whisper.

Pendragon jumped out of is dazed state and turned to look at Merlin both irritated and patronizing. "The potion fumes must be getting to your head." He rolled his eyes and got back to his lackadaisical cleaning.

Merlin stared at him like he was an idiot (since he was certainly acting like it). How on Earth were dried out, leftover potions supposed to be giving off anything.

"These aren't giving off any . . . fumes!" Merlin exclaimed, looking at the purple gas starting to rise from Pendragon's cauldron as he steadily ignored it and the fizzing sound which had gotten much louder. But Merlin was right; it certainly shouldn't have been giving off any sorts of vapours. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the scrubbing brush in Pendragon's hand that looked like it hadn't once been cleaned off since the start of the detention.

The fizzing sound got noticeably louder, now interspersed with pops. Merlin saw Pendragon's face go all scrunched up and confused, before his senses went off the scale. He found himself shouting, "Get down!" and practically tackling Arthur to the floor, landing the both about a metre and a half away, as the cauldron and the place surrounding it exploded in a mass of purple and orange flames and smokes.

"You saved my life!" Arthur exclaimed, Merlin still on top of him. Merlin was gracious enough not to comment on the voice crack that happened at the end of his sentence. He looked awkwardly down at the other boy, realising suddenly how closely pressed together they were. He quickly tensed and rolled himself off to the side.

"Well . . ." Merlin started uneasily, "I don't really think I saved your life, y'know, just maybe a trip to the hospital wing."

Arthur's gaze darted from Merlin's face to the bench and table - which was currently on fire - incredulously. "I don't think a quick trip to the school nurse would help if I had been bloody blown up!"

Merlin swallowed nervously, uncomfortable with someone's attention being so focused on him. "Well, you never know what they could do." He shrugged and gave a tentative smile. "Maybe the nurse could work her magic."

It started out as a chuckle, barely there, falling from Arthur's mouth. A few seconds later they were both in full blown hysterics, crying with laughter and shaking from their spot on the ground. Should the joke be repeated to them at any other time they would probably both have stared blankly in response and stated that it was in no way funny, however, due to the fact that they were both still recovering from shock, it was currently the funniest thing to have ever been said.

They calmed down eventually and Arthur offered him a rather genuine smile, which Merlin hesitantly returned.

The pair of them seemed to have very conveniently forgotten the fact that school property was still aflame, and yet also somehow simultaneously melting. This was a fact which was quickly remedied by Professor Snape's extravagant entrance.

"What on Earth is going on here?!" he bellowed as his cloak billowed behind him, the classroom door slamming not even a moment later.

Merlin felt himself flinch, and there was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent it. Any smile that had previously been on his face had fallen away, the second he had caught sight of the enraged professor Snape. Himself crouched on the floor with a threatening figure roaring above him was an all too familiar scene, and he felt his unease and incredible dislike of Professor Snape grow exponentially. _Remember the rules. Remember them._

Luckily Arthur stepped in before Merlin was forced to answer. "There, erm, there was an accident . . ."

"Yes. I can see that," Snape replied through gritted teeth. "What I'm asking is _how_? And _why_ exactly you didn't call for assistance the second it happened!" he hissed.

"Well, we, erm . . ." Arthur looked over at him, clearly expecting some sort of help or backup in this situation. Looking for an ally.

"We don't know," Merlin answered softly, lying, and staring at his hands. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Professor. But neither could he look at the boy he had just lied to protect. Merlin had seen Pendragon dosing while they were given instructions, and it did not take much deductive reasoning to realise that he had missed the instruction telling them to clean the cauldron brush between each clean so that the potions wouldn't mix. But Merlin would not hand him over to Professor Snape's wrath.

"We don't know," he repeated, a little louder, with more confidence. "I heard a fizzing noise, and when I looked up weird-coloured smoke was rising from his cauldron. I had a bad feeling about it so I reacted on instinct and pushed him out of the way, knocking us both to the floor. Then, erm, then that happened," he finished, nodding his head in the direction of the half melted desk.

Snape narrowed his eyes at both boys and Arthur had been nodding emphatically as Merlin spoke. Merlin knew neither of these things, as he had kept - and still kept - his eyes fixed upon his hands.

"Very well," Snape's voice droned. "Mister Emrys, you may go. Mister Pendragon, you will report to Mister Filch for detention for the next week –"

"What?!" Arthur's voice cut in; outraged at the injustice.

"- for _vandalising school property_. And that's ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting," he finished with a harsh glare at Pendragon. Merlin saw Arthur open his mouth again to protest (probably at the fact that it's hardly vandalism when it was a complete accident), but before he could, Snape snapped, "And it'll be double that if you've got anything else to say."

Arthur quickly snapped his jaw shut and levelled a glare at the Professor. He swiped his bag from the floor and stormed out of the room. Merlin saw the satisfied smirk on the Professor's face as he did so. Merlin quickly scrambled to the side as he realised he was placed right in Pendragon's path and he didn't seem like he was going to stop to move around him.

Hurrying, so that he wouldn't have to be left alone with the potion's master, Merlin quickly followed Arthur's lead and moved to get his things. Although, where Arthur had stormed out of the room, Merlin had done more of a scuttle. He took extra care to not once look at the Professor as he left, but he could feel those cold beetle eyes watching him leave.

As soon as he was far enough down the corridor he let out an audible sigh of relief, slumping against the castle wall. He hadn't realised that he had been loud enough to stop Pendragon and make him turn around, until there was a shadow approaching him.

* * *

Arthur was fuming. He could not believe what a gigantic git Snape was. And he definitely could not believe that he had gotten another week's worth of detention. It wasn't as if he had melted his desk on purpose! It was taking all of his self-control not to punch a wall or throw anything. This was just one more thing that proved he didn't belong in this stupid school!

He hated it here.

At least at his primary school everyone had known who he was, even if he had still struggled at bit in the friends department. Bloody witches and wizards had never even heard the name Pendragon. He was a nobody here. All his life, Arthur had always been able to fall back on that, his father's name and money, but none of that meant anything here. He had heard people, Slytherins mostly, but some others too, whispering names behind his back. 'Mudblood'. Whatever that meant he hated it.

He hated it here.

He wasn't that great in any of his classes. He had always been the best at Maths in school, and sports, and history, and almost everything. It wasn't like he was rubbish at magic or anything, but he wasn't the best. Arthur hated not being the best, and he was incredibly unaccustomed to it. Not to mention that his father always expected the best of him. Even after finding put he was a wizard, his father told him that if he wasn't going to be a normal person then he had to be the best wizard there was. He hated it.

He hated it here.

He didn't have any friends here. He used to have Morgana. No matter what they had always had each other's back. Half the time they were fighting with each other, but she was practically his sister, so it didn't matter that they fought. It was different now. She was in Slytherin and he was in Gryffindor, and apparently some stupid rivalry meant that they couldn't be friends anymore. Not to mention that she was better at magic than him. He didn't want to face his father and tell him that Morgana's amazing at magic and left him behind because her new friends thought he was a joke.

He was always rubbish at making friends, he'd say something he thought was funny or clever and everyone heard it as arrogant or mean. Some of his roommates found him funny but it was a hit or miss kind of situation. He liked them, he wanted to be their friend but he was pretty sure they only tolerated him, and he hated it. He knew he was being an arse to that Hufflepuff kid the other day, but he had just sort of snapped. He hated here and there was nothing and no one to make him feel better.

That was why when he heard Emrys sigh after they had gotten out of detention he didn't just keep walking. He turned around to look at the other boy. He looked stressed and panicked, but ultimately relieved. Arthur hadn't thought Snape's shouting should have affected him this badly.

His first instinct was to turn away. His second instinct was to make fun of him. Arthur decided to go with his third instinct, to go and talk to him. After all, Emrys had kind of saved his life back there.

Squaring his shoulders and putting confidence into his steps, Arthur approached the . . . _opportunity? . . . potential friend?_ . . . boy. Emrys was slumped against the wall, breathing rather heavily, with his head in his hands.

"H- Hi," Arthur stuttered, all his confidence suddenly deserting him at the last second. Merlin looked at him with caution, almost fear, present in his eyes. There was no trace lingering of the boy who had sat on the floor and laughed with him. And the smile that had been on his face was nowhere to be seen. He swallowed and tried for a charming smile (at least one of them should look even remotely self-assured). "I wanted to thank you, not only for saving me, but for helping when Snape started asking questions," the other boy looked at him rather blankly, "I had no idea what to say to him," Arthur finished with an awkward laugh.

Emrys gave him a small smile, but Arthur could tell it was forced. He almost just cursed and turned away, ready to give up, but he forced himself to see this through.

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I, er . . . I also wanted to apologise for yesterday. You were right. I was behaving like an arse."

That got him a real smile. A small one, but he counted it as a victory. Arthur beamed.

"Yeah, you kinda were," he agreed, his smile slowly getting bigger in answer to Arthur's. Arthur offered him a hand up, he saw Merlin hesitate slightly before taking it.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, neither really knowing what to say but neither willing to walk away. Merlin, Arthur noticed, still had a small smile left on his face but was no longer looking at him, and was looking instead at his feet.

Arthur wasn't quite sure what to expect from him, but it wasn't this. Arthur had seen him interact with his friends before, he seemed talkative and friendly, a far cry from the nervous boy in front of him now (and certainly different from the boy who called him out on his actions in front of half of the school). _It's you,_ a small part of his brain whispered, _he just doesn't want to be friendly to you_.

 _Just go for it_ , the rest of him said. He cleared his throat, partly out of nerves, partly to get Emrys to look at him again. "Have you, er . . . have you done the Defence homework yet?" he asked. Merlin shook his head. "I was heading to the library to do it, if you – er – if you wanna join me?"

Emrys seemed to be sizing him up; looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes and a look of confusion. He was going to say no. He was going to tell Arthur to shove off and that he didn't want to spend any more time with him than he had to. Arthur braced himself for the rejection.

But slowly, he nodded, "Yeah, alright. Sure." Arthur wasn't sure he even heard him right. He wanted to ask him to repeat but didn't want to look like an idiot or make him reconsider his decision. He didn't know how big the smile on his face was but he was pretty sure he looked dumb.

And that was that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, right up until their evening meal, holed up on a table in the corner. And so what if they got all their work done in the first hour?

They spent the day talking away. Arthur mentioned his family, careful not to try and name-drop his father again after seeing how badly that went over, though he was confused over how no one in the magical world knew the name of the man running for Prime minister. He instead spoke about his annoying sister who wasn't really his sister, Morgana, and briefly mentioned his mother who had died in childbirth. He hated to talk about his mother, he didn't have a single memory of her and sometimes he hated that he missed something that he'd never even had. Arthur usually liked to quickly pass over that particular detail of his life, he wasn't a fan of the pity he usually got in return, but it wasn't like that, not this time.

Merlin gave him an understanding smile and nod. "Both my parents died when I was a couple years old," he revealed, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke, "I was raised by my aunt and uncle. It's just not the same." Arthur nodded along, happy to have met someone who got what it was like, not realising how much more there was behind those words.

Arthur was relieved to know someone else who had experienced similar losses to him. Morgana had always sort of gotten it, losing her mother when she was around seven years old and her father a year later. But Arthur had never managed to curve the jealousy he felt at the years she had still gotten with both her parents, the years full of memories that he never had with his own mother. He had always hated that part of himself, reminding himself that he still had his father whilst Morgana had no one.

Merlin was clearly trying to steer the conversation away from home after that, and Arthur followed his lead gladly, never happy to dwell on such a topic. And well, Arthur didn't know too much about friends but he was pretty sure that you didn't share such personal stuff unless you were friends. But Arthur still let the topic slide because maybe, just maybe, he had made a friend.

He instead learned about Merlin's neighbour, who he really saw as more of a younger brother, Harry. It was very clear to Arthur that this Harry-person was a topic that Merlin could talk endlessly about. Arthur was happy to listen, for once. This person was clearly very important to Merlin and Arthur wanted to learn anything he could to secure a friendship with him. He also heard Merlin ramble endlessly about his cat, Aithusa, who apparently only liked Merlin, Gwaine and that Lance guy from Ravenclaw.

Eventually they moved on to discussing their classes and teachers, obviously ending in them complaining about professor Snape's abhorrent teaching for almost an hour straight. There were lots of laughter and some truly terrible impressions, but by the end of it they were definitely friends. They almost missed their dinner being so caught up with each other. It was only the not-so-gentle pushing of the librarian that got them to dinner on time.

In the end, they parted ways at the entrance to the Great Hall with a smile and a promise to work on the next Defence Against the Dark Arts homework together. And maybe Arthur didn't hate Hogwarts quite as much as he did that morning.

* * *

Merlin couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. To think, a little while ago he was worried that he might have made his first enemy hat Hogwarts by standing up to some uppity bully. And now he could safely say, with a fair amount of confidence, that he had made another new friend.

This was so bizarrely new to him. He had managed to luck out and made some friends on the train and then sit next to someone nice in another class, but beyond that he hadn't really made many more. He had never really had the chance to make friends in primary school, always so afraid of what Mordred would report back to Cenred, so Hogwarts was the first place he felt like he could finally relax and be himself. But still, he wasn't exactly popular, he had a few close friends and was on friendly terms with people like his roommates and the Weasleys, but to so easily turn what he was certain to be a hateful relationship into a friendship was utterly mind boggling for him.

And yet, it had just come so easily with them. It was as if once they finally started talking everything had just clicked into place. Almost as easy as breathing. It felt like - and now this wasn't a feeling that Merlin was particularly familiar with - coming home, which didn't quite make any sense, especially since they were still practically strangers. But his magic just felt warm and fuzzy around him. Not his normal magic, but the pit of deep, glowing gold that lay mostly dormant within him, it was happy the longer he spent with Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin wasn't quite sure if he had felt it the first few times they had interacted, but all of sudden his magic was practically vibrating in Arthur's presence. He didn't know why but there was no way he was giving this up.

But how to explain this sudden friendship to his other friends, Gwaine especially? Lance wouldn't have any issue with it, he was pretty accepting of anything and Mithian would probably shrug it off with maybe a minor hitch due to house rivalry. But Gwaine? He had seen the entire confrontation with Arthur, and telling him that Arthur had apologised probably wouldn't do much.

This really wasn't how he expected his detention to turn out when he left for it, earlier that morning. And he definitely hadn't expected to end his day so happily after waking up in the hospital wing. God, just thinking back over the entire mess of the last two days was enough to make him feel exhausted. He really didn't think he had the energy to attempt to explain this all to his incredibly nosy friends.

Perhaps he just . . . wouldn't mention it.

There was nothing wrong with that, right? It was a fairly new friendship, not that much to tell about it. And well . . . maybe he didn't quite trust Gwaine not to scare Arthur off. Gwaine was kind of brash and, well, he wasn't the type to keep negative opinions to himself.

Merlin _liked_ Arthur, and he wasn't quite ready to admit how much he liked him after only spending an afternoon with him. And he really didn't want to risk something ruining this budding friendship.

He wasn't quite sure what it was that made him want to keep him to himself, he knew there was something more than the Gwaine risk. It was the same part of him that made his magic buzz, which told him to treasure the friendship as just theirs while he could.

It was utterly unfounded to be putting so much on this, after such a brief time, but Arthur was special. He could sense it.


	9. Aithusa's Cult

**Okay, so I'm posting a new chapter a couple of months after the last one. No surprise there. Sorry these are taking me so long to get out, I'm a little bit useless at maintaining any sort of writing schedule.**

 **PLEASE READ!**

 **OKAY SO I'VE GONE THROUGH ALL OF MY PREVIOUS CHAPTERS AND MADE SOME CHANGES AND RE-UPLOADED THEM. BASICALLY, BEACAUSE I TAKE SO LONG TO WRITE I HALF FORGET WHAT I WROTE IN THE LAST ONE. SO I WENT THROUGH TO PICK OUT ANY INCONSISTENCIES AND ENDED UP MAKING SOME EDITS AND ADDING THINGS IN AND WHATNOT. SO MAYBE GO BACK AND REREAD THE OTHERS NOW BECAUSE SOME THINGS MIGHT HAVE CHANGED FROM HOW YOU REMEMBER. THANK YOU!**

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 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 9 – Aithusa's Cult**

"Listen, Merlin, I know Hogwarts is great and all - especially to someone raised by Muggles - but you can't seriously want to spend Christmas here?" Gwaine asked incredulously, waving his arms in the air for dramatic effect.

"Well, I do," he said simply. They were sat in the Hufflepuff common room, a small circular table, their Herbology homework (and their opinions) in between them. Aithusa was curled up on one of the chairs between them, purring softly. There were still only very few people she liked, so she was never far from either of them within the common room. "I know it doesn't make sense to you, but can you drop it, please?"

Gwaine shook his head firmly, his longish brown hair swaying behind him, clearly ready to start on another rant about the cosiness of your own bed, a home cooked Christmas dinner, seeing your family's face when you give them your presents, all the other things that would inspire warmth and homesickness in anyone else. And while Merlin did feel a small pang in his chest at the thought of going even longer without seeing Harry, he knew the reality of their situation. He knew that they wouldn't be allowed to spend any time together. At least with Merlin away at Hogwarts, Cenred and the Dursleys had no way of stopping them from exchanging their letters.

No, Merlin was better off staying here and far away from Cenred and his demon spawn. Safer, too. He didn't quite know what exactly Cenred had done these past few months without his favourite punching bag, but he certainly didn't want to go back for two weeks and find out. Hogwarts was his escape. What kind of lunatic would willingly go back to that hell-hole?

"C'mon, Em, don't you think your family will want to see you? They probably miss having you around," Gwaine prodded.

He flinched. He'd gotten better these last few months. He'd started adjusting to the fact that he wasn't in near-constant danger. But he could feel it again, that tingle in his spine, on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him, waiting for him to mess up, waiting to hurt him again.

It was such a harmless thing for Gwaine to say. _They probably miss having you around._ There's nothing wrong with that sentence, except that they didn't miss _him._ Morgause probably missed having someone to order and clean and cook. Mordred probably missed having someone to trick and blame and mess with. Cenred probably missed having someone to _hit_ and _kick_ and _punch_ and _beatandhurtandtortureand-_

"Merlin? Mate, you're gonna snap your quill," Gwaine commented lightly. It was forced though. Merlin could see the tense lines around his eyes, the caution in them. It was clear to him that his friend was putting on a casual air, probably to keep Merlin from bolting.

He dropped his quill and tried to swallow the fear. He was just with Gwaine and Aithusa, other first years sat near them and older students scattered further across the common room. He wasn't with _them_ , he was safe.

 _Deep breath_. "Yeah, erm, sorry. I zoned out there for- for a second." _Deep breath_. His damn stutter always came back when he was nervous. He gave his friend a small smile. _Deep breath_. "So what was it you got for number six?" _Deep breath_. Gwaine gave him an unconvinced look, clearly seeing though Merlin's less than subtle diversion, but continued with the Homework anyway. _Deep breath_ . . .

With Gwaine officially deflected from the subject, Merlin let his mind wander.

He wasn't looking forward to writing the letter to Harry, telling him that he wouldn't be home for the holidays. They usually exchanged letters around once a week; Merlin was late by a few days of his usual delivery day. He knew that he was only putting off the inevitable, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Deep down, he knew that he was probably only making Harry worry, and that Harry probably half-expected that he wouldn't come home anyway, but he still didn't want to hurt his little brother with such news.

Harry was the only person he considered family. Cenred was his uncle in name only; none of his actions were ever remotely familial.

Part of him had always considered contacting child services. He wasn't stupid; he knew that was the smart thing to do in his situation. But he was deathly afraid of what would happen if he didn't succeed, and Cenred found out he had tried. His response to people asking questions about his nephew's well-being had never ended well for Merlin. Cenred had always thought that Merlin needed punishing if people acted too curious, as if he was trying to draw their attention and get them to notice. That everlasting threat had always scared Merlin into not telling his teachers or trying to call the police.

But it eventually became more than that. It became about not wanting to be separated from Harry. This neighbour boy who was oh so much like himself, and in a situation that was frighteningly similar. Merlin's fear for himself became fear for Harry. He noticed the thin wrists, baggy clothes, lack of smiles - but no bruises; thank God there were no bruises. And so Merlin named himself Harry's watcher. He wouldn't let Harry go through what he had with Cenred. And when they could finally spend time together, it was like two kindred souls meeting. They were brothers, not by blood, but by choice. And it was one of the only choices they had every really had the freedom to make, at that point.

So Merlin couldn't risk letting someone to whisk him away from Cenred, because what if he told them that people were hurting Harry too, only Harry had no bruises, so he had no proof. Where would he be, separated from his brother with no way to watch out for him, no way to protect him if it ever came down to it?

For so many years his thoughts had revolved around Harry. How to stay alive and how to protect Harry. He had always told himself that if the Dursleys ever lay a hand on his Harry that he would find a way hurt them - with magic, with the police, either, anything. It had always been a close call with Dudley and his gang of mini-maniacs in the making, but Harry was quick and he could out-run them.

But still, Merlin had abandoned him now.

He had packed his bags and left for Hogwarts, leaving Harry behind. He had thought of his little brother, but not nearly as much as he should have been, as he used to do. And now he was trying to justify to himself to keep abandoning him. That wasn't what family did. They were all each other had had for years. Merlin had made new friends, Merlin had some other people now, but Harry was still alone. How could he have even considered leaving him alone for another few months (who was he kidding, if he wasn't going back for Christmas then he wouldn't go back for Easter break either), for the rest of the year?

His own selfishness was almost making him sick. Harry needed him. That's all there was to it. He would send his letter tonight; tell him that he's coming home.

"You're right," Merlin said quietly.

Gwaine looked up from his work. "About question eight? I know we got different answers but honestly, Em, you should just stick with-"

"I mean about the holidays," he interrupted. His voice was soft. It had to be soft; if he raised it at all he was pretty sure you'd be able to hear the shakiness. "You're right, I should go back. I have family who needs me there."

He couldn't quite look Gwaine in the eye, but he saw his friend's smile grow large out of the corner of his eye. "That's great, Merlin. I bet your uncle and aunt will be excited when you tell them."

Merlin hadn't thought about that, honestly. Surely Cenred wouldn't want him home. Surely Cenred wouldn't _expect_ him home. Should he just show up without warning? Sending an owl to tell him surely isn't the best route; any reminder of magic would only get him in trouble. He could ask Harry to pass on the message, but he didn't want Harry anywhere near that beast (and telling Cenred that he was in constant contact with Harry would only make him even angrier that Merlin was coming home, especially knowing Harry is the only thing that Merlin would go back for). God, what was he going to do? He needed to think of a solution, and fast. Christmas break was only a week away.

"Mate?" Gwaine interrupted his thoughts. "I know I've been encouraging you to go, but this seems to really be stressing you out," he carried on awkwardly. "I just know that my family would miss me if I wasn't headed back and I was only trying to be encouraging. But I get your family situation isn't the same." He ignored Merlin's spluttered protests and denials. "No, it isn't, Em. I've noticed you avoiding talking about it, and how uncomfortable you get when someone brings up your uncle. Not your parent's death, but the fact that you live with your _uncle_. Look, I'm not gonna force you to talk about it but you don't have to lie to me about it, Merlin."

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. He just stared at his friend.

He knew his mouth was probably hanging open and he was gaping like an idiot, but he couldn't bring himself to react. He knew that he wasn't exactly subtle when avoiding talk of his uncle or covering up his odd reactions to things, but he didn't expect to be confronted with the fact of the matter. The last time someone brought it up with him it had been McGonagall, and he had accidentally blown up her office and knocked them all unconscious. He didn't want to deal with this now; he didn't think he could handle it.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Merlin was shakily getting up from his seat. His hands were trembling. "I'm just gonna-"

And then he was bolting out of the common room. He heard Gwaine calling after him, shouting something - his name, probably - but he didn't turn around or stop to listen. He just needed to get _away_.

Why do people always do this? Why do they have to just _ruin things_? He liked Gwaine. Now things were ruined. Things would be awkward and tense; they'd both be walking on eggshells, neither wanting to say the wrong thing to the other. Things were ruined, and all because of bloody Cenred. The man wasn't even in the same country and he was still finding ways to ruin things for Merlin.

No. _No._ He wasn't going to let go of his friendship with Gwaine over this. It was bound to happen - him finding out about Cenred. It will _always_ be bound to happen. He can't just not ever make friends outside of Harry. He _wouldn't_ lose Gwaine over this; he just needed to calm down.

He could feel his magic flaring inside him. Agitated and burning to get out, to burst. He couldn't let it, he wouldn't. He wouldn't risk hurting someone like he did last time. He just needed to calm down.

He was over-reacting. Gwaine had said that he wasn't going to force Merlin to talk about it, so if Merlin would just _calm down_ then he could drop it and they could never speak of it again.

Yes.

That would be brilliant.

As long as Gwaine just wasn't a stubborn arse about it, like he usually is about most things.

Gathering his resolve to put the situation behind him and just go back to the common room just as soon as his magic stopped trying to explode out of him, he heard a, "Merlin?"

And suddenly, the golden roaring in his blood, turned to a content hum.

* * *

Arthur was making his way down to the kitchens. The Weasley twins had taken a bunch of them from the Gryffindor dorms down there a few weeks back. How they had managed to find out so many school secrets and passageways after only a few short months was baffling to Arthur.

He had been studying for a few hours in the library and hadn't even realised he had skipped lunch. He just intended to stop for a brief snack, just to last him until dinner, and those funny little creatures were always so kind. And while he'd been aware that the Hufflepuff common room was somewhere in the castle's basement, he hadn't really expected to come across a quite obviously stressed Merlin.

He was sat, hunched, on the floor. His legs were tucked tight against his chest and he had his hands fisted in his hair, griping it tightly. Arthur could just about hear him muttering incomprehensibly to himself under his breath.

"Merlin?" he called, concern for his friend rising as wild eyes snap to his. They were wide with fear and rimmed with the type of red that only comes from suppressing tears, but they seemed to relax slightly when they fall upon him.

(Arthur was familiar with that, suppressing tears. He could still hear his father's voice ringing in his ears that _real men don't cry, Pendragon men don't cry_. He was only six at the time, just finally comprehending why he didn't have a mother, that it was his fault all along. His father was a little drunk - he only ever talked about mother when he was drunk - and he had snapped at Arthur when he had asked to see the photo album that he knew his father kept in his desk drawer, _if it wasn't for you she wouldn't be gone in the first place._ And then a younger Arthur had begun to tear up, faced with the knowledge that he was responsible for his mother's death, and then his father had decided that six years old was too old to be crying.

Obviously someone had taught Merlin that same lesson by the looks of things.)

Arthur shook off his odd thoughts and memories, focusing on his friend. He approached him carefully, with one hand outstretched, as one would approach a frightened animal. "You alright there, Merlin?"

He watched his friend blink a few times in a row, his wide eyes settling into something more normal. Merlin swallowed a before plastering on the most obviously fake 'reassuring' smile that Arthur had ever seen. "I'm good," he stated in a surprisingly sure tone of voice.

Arthur felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. "You sure about that?" he asked, moving to slump against the wall next to him. He allowed himself a brief smile when he felt Merlin's head move to rest against his shoulder as he crossed his legs at the ankles. "It's just, you seemed a little jumpy there for a second."

"I had an argument with Gwaine," he told him simply. Arthur wasn't a big fan of Gwaine. They had come to a tenuous truce due to his friendship with Merlin a few weeks ago; but the git still hadn't stopped calling him _Princess_. And while Arthur very much wanted to go on a tangent to Merlin about how Gwaine was probably the worst person in the world and he should definitely leave him and be _just Arthur's_ friend, he forced himself to be silent until he knew more. "I over-reacted," Merlin added quietly.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, still not quite sure what it would be (since he wasn't very good at comforting people, his only practice being after Morgana's nightmares after her father died), when Merlin cut him off before he could.

"Don't worry about it. I was about to head back anyway; apologise for freaking out."

"You seem to do that a lot," Arthur commented after a pause. He felt Merlin tense slightly next to him.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Arthur huffed a laugh. "No, I mean -" he laughed again, feeling guilty as Merlin seemed to shut down further. "I meant, that you say 'sorry' a lot," he told him with a small smile and a much softer tone of voice. "I don't care that you freak out sometimes, and neither should Gwaine."

Merlin lifted his head off where it was resting on his shoulder and looked at him disbelievingly.

"Okay, maybe it's a little weird," he conceded with roll of his eyes and a small smile, "but it doesn't _matter._ I'm sure you had your reason for it, whatever it was. And if he does care I'll kick his arse."

He felt Merlin give a full body laugh next to him. "Sure you will," he said sarcastically.

"What you don't believe I will?!" he asked incredulously, only half joking.

Merlin snorted. "It's not that I don't think you _will_ , it's that I'm not sure you _can_." Arthur straightened up, dislodging Merlin slightly, hoping that his expression very well communicated the _how dare you_ that he was feeling. Merlin only laughed harder. "Look, I'm sure you'll _try -_ "

"Alright that's it," Arthur muttered before grabbing his friend in a headlock and rubbing his fist into the top of his head, laughing the whole time. He felt Merlin seize up for a moment before he started snickering too, his efforts to escape hindered by the fact that his whole body was shaking with laughter.

Eventually Arthur let him go with a smile and a small shove. "Now that you've seen proof of my physical prowess I'm certain you'll agree that I could easily kick Gwaine's arse."

"I'm saying yes, but I want it on record that I'm saying it under duress and only because I don't want you to do that again," Merlin said, smiling.

Arthur let out a snort. "Doesn't matter why you said it, you said. And now I can brag to Gwaine that you said I could beat him in a fight."

Merlin smiled, shaking his head. "We're wizards, aren't we supposed to duel?"

"Well, yeah, but we're first years. What do we know about duelling?" Arthur replied. And then, "Give me a few years and I'll kick his arse in duel as well."

Merlin barked out a laugh, a look of surprise and amusement splashed across his face. Arthur allowed himself to smile at his friend's change in mood since he first found him. He allowed himself to think, for a second, that he might be a good friend after all.

His inner musings were broken up by a small meow and the feeling of two small paws pressing against his chest.

Arthur turned his head from where it was facing Merlin to look at the small kitten that was looking at him. She looked a lot bigger than he knew she should be, with the way she was half stood, using him to lever herself taller. She was a skinny thing and her bright golden eyes, shone against her pretty white fur.

"Aithusa, what are you doing here?" he heard Merlin ask what was obviously his cat. He leaned over Arthur to pick her up, but the second he placed her on his own lap, she scampered off it, deciding instead to jump across to Arthur and nuzzle her face against his cheek.

Arthur let out a laugh. "I think she likes me more, you know," he said with a satisfied smile, not letting Merlin's pout stop him from reaching his hand up to pet the kitten. Her fur was as soft as it looked, and Arthur could see now why Merlin spent a good ten minutes talking about her the first time they talked in the Library.

When Arthur turned to look at Merlin again the pout was gone, and instead a small pleased smile was present on his face. "Congratulations," he told Arthur, still smiling, "You've been chosen."

His faced scrunched up, confused. "It sounds like you're inducting me into a cult!"

Merlin snorted. "Well, we are wizards. I'm sure there are cults in the wizarding world."

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin."

He rolled his eyes. "I was talking about Aithusa," he elaborated.

"She could never be a part of a cult," Arthur dismissed. "She's far too beautiful." And yes, Arthur could admit that maybe he was a little bit enraptured by Merlin's pet cat.

"Or maybe that's how they draw you in," he muttered conspiratorially. "Hey!" he exclaimed when Arthur gave him a small elbow to his side. "I was _trying_ to tell you that Aithusa likes you. Remember? I told you how she only really likes me, Gwaine and Lance. And now you too. She hisses at just about everyone in my common room, and I'm pretty sure the prefects are afraid of her. I don't know what makes her so fussy, but either way, she likes you!"

Arthur tried to contain his smile at just how happy it made him. Merlin's pure joy and enthusiasm at the prospect wasn't helping either. It was pathetic really, that being told you're one of four people that an animal likes, and then not being able to stop yourself from smiling like a lunatic. Huh, maybe it was a cult?

"I guess that means I'm special." He had said it jokingly. Because that's what it was. A joke. He was expecting Merlin to make some quip making fun of him, or maybe carry on the joke and start over exaggerating. Y'know, the type of stuff they usually do.

What he was not expecting was a soft but genuine, "Yeah," to come from his friend.

He kind of froze. Stared at Merlin a shock for a few seconds. Merlin must have realised that what he said was odd, because after a second, his face and especially his ears turned a brilliant scarlet that Arthur normally would have enjoyed mocking.

"Erm, let me walk you and Aithusa back to your common room," he offered, still feeling kind of awkward. No one had ever called him special before. When he was good at things, back home, that wasn't special, that was _expected_. His father had never called him that once in his life. Maybe his mother would have, but Arthur would never know. And Morgana had certainly never called him anything of the sort. Well, that isn't strictly true. She had called him special before. But she said 'special' the same way you would say 'stupid'.

"That's probably a good idea," Merlin said, interrupting his thoughts, "I don't think Aithusa's ready to let you go yet."

The rest of their walk down the corridors was silent. The awkward atmosphere was palpable and Arthur didn't really know what to say. Luckily, Merlin broke their silence for him, just as they were nearing a giant barrel lid.

"Hey, do you think if I give you something you can pass it on to the Weasley twins for me? You share a room with them right?"

"Erm, yeah, I guess," Arthur told him, a little confused about where the conversation topic had come from, especially since Arthur didn't know that Merlin knew Fred or George. Everyone in their year knew _of_ them, they were kind of unavoidable, but this was different. "What's this about?" he asked curious, and unable to help himself.

"It's just a letter. If you can tell them it's from me and just ask them to pass it on to their Dad when they visit him at Christmas, that'd be great."

Okay well know he was even more confused. Merlin knowing the Weasleys – unexpected but understandable. Merlin knowing their father – super-duper weird. "What?" he said incredulously.

"I met him on the train platform on the first day." His voice had grown much softer suddenly. "It was right after I knocked you over actually." The both winced at the memory. It was neither of their finest moments. "Well, anyway, he stopped me, asked if I was alright and then asked if I was Merlin Emrys. Apparently him and my Dad shared a room at Hogwarts; he told me that I look a lot like him. Said I could give his sons a letter to send to him if I wanted to ask about my parents. So, I was gonna."

"Oh," Arthur said eloquently. "Erm, wow. How come it's taken you this long to decide to send anything?" If he had the same opportunity? To learn more about his mother? Arthur would have jumped on the chance, the first second he got.

"I was scared," Merlin admitted quietly. "He seemed really positive about it, but I was worried I was gonna find out something about my parents that I don't really want to know." Arthur would never understand what Merlin meant by those words. Never understand that he was so afraid of finding out that his father might have more in common with his uncle than with Merlin.

"I'll go get the letter, be right back."

And then he rushed off, tapping something out on the barrel lid that Arthur didn't catch, before he managed to get a word out.

He was back quite quickly. He gave Arthur a quick, "Thank you." And Arthur said a last minute, "Good luck with Gwaine." And then he was left in the corridor, letter in hand, trying to resist the urge to read it.

 _It's private_ , he reminded himself. _It's rude to look through other people's things_ and he would hate if he found out someone had read his own letters to his father. But Merlin _had_ given it to him, and the letter wasn't sealed, surely that meant he didn't care who saw it. _Or_ , the better part of him challenged, _it means he trusts you not to look_. _Or he trusts me enough to read it_.

In the end he just gave in and opened the letter.

 _Dear Mr Weasley,_

 _It's Merlin Emrys here._

 _You were kind enough to say at the start of the year that I could send you a letter if I had any questions about my parents. I hope the offer didn't expire and I didn't wait too long._

 _I don't really know where to start with my questions, if I'm being honest. My uncle is a squib so he doesn't like talking about his magical brother at all, so what information I have about them is just what little I remember. I know they both had dark hair and bright smiles. I remember a bluish silver bird coming out of my mother's wand and I remember the sound of my father's laugh._

 _Professor McGonagall told me that my father was a Gryffindor and my mother a Hufflepuff, like me, but I haven't been brave enough to ask her for any stories about either of them._

 _I was hoping maybe you could do that? Tell me any stories you have, that is, not ask her for me. That would be ridiculous._

 _Also, if it isn't too much trouble, I would really appreciate a copy of any picture you have of them. My uncle has never had any in the house, and what little memory I have of their faces has gotten harder and harder to remember the older I've got. Really, anything you can give I would really appreciate._

 _Thank you._

 _Merlin Emrys._


	10. The Boy Who Lived Next-Door

**Hey! So I'm trying very hard to come up with a new schedule that might make me write more regularly, so I guess we'll see how that goes!**

 **I want everyone to know how much fun it was to write for McGonagall in this chapter, she is by far one of my favourites to write from.**

 **I wanted to give a big Thank You for all the follows, faves and reviews, they are all very much appriciated.**

 **Please vote in the poll.**

 **Chapter 10 – The Boy Who Lived . . . Next-Door**

"Professor Sprout?" Merlin asked, knocking on the door to his Head of House's office.

"Merlin, dear," she said, a bright smile lighting up her face as she ushered him inside her office. She was a round woman with grey hair that was just full of curls, even under her hat he could see the flyaway hairs peeking out. "Come sit down, lad. Now, how can I help you?"

Merlin paused for a moment, sat tensely on the chair opposite her desk. Part of him hated what he was about to say, but he knew that if he didn't do this today he would lose his nerve entirely. After passing on his letter to the Weasleys through Arthur, Merlin and Gwaine had tried to get back to their homework rather awkwardly. Both of them had been trying to erase the earlier conversation from their minds, but Merlin couldn't forget it. He had come to a decision, and now he had to see it through.

"I'd like to take my name off the list of students staying in the castle over the holidays," he told her not quite confidently. He knew his anxious fiddling with his hands and the hems of his sleeves probably wasn't putting across any sort of surety in his decision.

When he looked up, he saw that her face was perfectly confused but trying to force itself into something that wouldn't come across as offensive. "Are you quite sure, dear?" she asked sincerely. "You're under no obligation to go back there."

Merlin allowed himself to wonder what exactly Professor McGonagall had shared with her about Cenred and their interactions for her to be so sure he was being forced to go back. And then he remembered that Professor Sprout had been present to his freak out during the first few weeks of school which landed him in the hospital wing (not to mention that she had also been knocked unconscious by Merlin's out of control magic).

"I know," he said softly, "but I think it's for the best."

"Merlin, dear," she started, equally as soft, "we haven't pushed you to talk about your home situation this term because we thought we had the rest of the school year to sort it and we wanted to give you time to be comfortable and not push you. I know that the last time we tried to have this conversation we had a bit of a disaster," she gave an uneasy laugh, "but if you insist on going home I'm afraid that this is something that we have to discuss."

Merlin wanted to throw up. There he was, thinking he had gotten out of having this conversation with Gwaine, only to be forced in to it by his Head of House. "I don't know what there is to talk about," he told her firmly. He forced himself to look away from her disbelieving gaze.

"I know it's not an easy topic," she carried on with a reassuring tone, "but unless you're willing to talk about it, or at least give me a good enough reason as to why you feel as though you have to go back, I'm afraid that I won't be taking your name off that list, dear. I really am sorry, Merlin."

Merlin swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and allowed himself to take a deep breath. At least his magic wasn't overreacting this time. He really didn't want to have to deal with that all over again, not on top of this conversation.

"Keeping quiet isn't going to solve anything," she told him, not unkindly. "I really am just trying to look out for your best interests here. I know it must be scary, but talking about it will help."

"I need to go back for Harry," Merlin said, his voice hoarse.

"Harry? Merlin, dear, I was of the impression that your cousin's name was _Mordred_."

"No, it is. But Mordred doesn't need my help, they'd never hurt _him_ ," he doesn't let himself worry about what he's implying, he needs to focus on Harry. "Harry's the boy who lives next door. His parents died and he lives with his aunt and uncle, just like me. Only, they aren't very good people, he needs someone to look out for him." _Just like me_. He doesn't say it but he sure thinks it, and he's pretty sure Professor Sprout does too."He's a bit younger than me but we went to the same primary school so I could always see if he was okay. I've been sending him letters but there's no way for me to know if he's really alright or just trying to keep me from worrying."

Merlin almost felt like he's betraying Harry, telling a stranger so many details about his life. But it was okay, he reassured himself, because Harry has no connection to this world, nothing that will lead them back to him.

Merlin looked up to see a picture of understanding and hesitance on Professor Sprout's face. He made himself focus on the former without worrying about the latter.

"I can understand you feeling a kinship with this boy, your circumstances are rather similar," they both knew she was talking about more than being orphaned, "but the best thing would be to report it to the muggle authorities to let them help him, and allow us to do the same for you." She was speaking gently and reassuringly but it wasn't enough to stop terror from shooting through Merlin.

"I'm all he has!" he cried desperately, slamming his hands on the desk in a rare display of anger. "I want him to be safe but they're going to move him away and I won't ever see him again. I know we still have letters, but . . ." he trailed off, seeing a guilty look on her face. "What?" he asks, his voice desperate. "What else?"

She tried to give him a smile, her face sympathetic as she tells him, "Merlin, dear, if this young boy is a muggle and you've been telling him about Hogwarts then I'm afraid I'll have to notify the ministry to send some obviators after him." She pauses as she regards his heartbroken face. "We can't have muggles knowing about magic, dear."

"But, no," he tries, "there are muggle-borns and half-bloods, their muggle family must know about magic. So, why not Harry?"

"I'm afraid it's not the same, dear. Only family -"

"He _is_ family!" Merlin declared stubbornly, angry at her insistence that Harry wasn't. He's the only true family that Merlin could ever really remember knowing. He knew his parents loved him but they were gone and Harry was all he had left. He wasn't going to let anyone take him away from him. "The only family I have that _matters_ , and so I need to go back to Surrey and make sure he's been okay without me."

She reached over the desk to pat his hand in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner, he forcefully pulled it back away from her. "I truly am sorry, Merlin, but I need this boy's name."

"No," Merlin said desperately, his voice close to breaking. "You can't, please. We're all each other have."

Merlin watched her swallow harshly before saying, "You know that as your Head of House I can search your dormitory, and I don't doubt you will have letters with this boy's name on them. I know that this must seem cruel to you, lad, but it's for the best. Now, what's this Harry's surname?"

He tried to blink back his tears. He couldn't believe he'd done this. He'd never forgive himself. _Harry_ would never forgive him. Harry won't even know him anymore. He didn't know if the ministry would just wipe Harry's mind of magic and get him moved away or whether they'll wipe his mind of _Merlin_ altogether. He didn't know which was worse.

He was so stupid. Why did he have to open his big bloody mouth? Time and time again he's learnt that nothing good happens when you tell adults the truth. And the one time where Cenred wasn't there to hammer the message home for him was probably the time where he will face his worst ever consequences. He was going to lose Harry. He was going to lose his brother and there was nothing he could do about it.

Merlin learnt a long time ago not to cry, but that doesn't matter anymore. The one person he always tried his best to hold it together for was being taken away from him. He let out a sob.

"Harry Potter." His voice was choked and there were enough tears in his eyes and streaming down his face to obscure his vision. So Merlin didn't notice the shocked look on Professor Sprout's face.

"Harry Potter?" Merlin was just about coherent enough to notice that her tone of voice was . . . off. Alarmed, almost. "His parents weren't Lily and James Potter, were they?"

What? And then Merlin was very confused. How could she . . . "How do you know about his parents?" He really didn't understand what was going on anymore. But at least confusion had taken over despair as his primary emotion and he was no longer crying.

And for some reason Professor Sprout was even more alarmed now. "His parents died at the end of the war. The _Wizarding_ War, just like yours did," she told him. "Harry Potter is a wizard."

Merlin didn't even know what to think.

* * *

She felt for the boy, really, she did. It was obvious how much he was struggling with the thought of having to say goodbye to this boy he considered family.

Pomona almost hated herself for it. The poor child was finally opening up on the subject of abuse, even if his own was more glossed over than she would have liked, it was a start. And now whatever positive work had been done in getting little Merlin to talk to her was being undone by her own hand.

It wasn't the first time she had had to talk one of her little Hufflepuffs into giving up the name of a muggle friend they had been too open with (she was sure she dealt with such scenarios much more than her colleagues), but she felt that this might be the first time where such a situation would have such devastating effects. The poor lad had made it quite obvious that the muggle boy was closer to a brother than a friend, but the law was the law, she couldn't ignore it no matter how much she wanted to.

She swallowed back all the reassurances that wanted to sprout from her mouth and said instead, "You know that as your Head of House I can search your dormitory, and I don't doubt you will have letters with this boy's name on them. I know that this must seem cruel to you, lad, but it's for the best. Now, what's this Harry's surname?"

Her heart broke slightly as she watched the child start crying. Pomona hadn't been Head of Hufflepuff when the poor boy's mother was at Hogwarts, but she was still the Herbology Professor. She had spoken with Minerva a few times about little Merlin - his home life, mainly – and how his smile resembled his mother's so much. However, she could see no hint of Hunith's smile on his face now, just big fat tears rolling down her face.

She had to resist the urge to pull the boy into a nice motherly hug – but she remembered his reaction to touch before, and wasn't eager for a repeat.

"Harry Potter."

The name caught her most off guard. She was almost ready to admonish the boy for giving her a fake name, but he was raised by muggles, he shouldn't know that name. She knew that Albus had sent The Boy Who Lived to live with an uncle and aunt, but she knew that the rest of the wizarding world didn't. And that wasn't all Merlin Emrys was saying. If his little friend was indeed _Harry Potter_ , then the saviour of the wizarding world might be in an abusive home. Of course any child in that kind of situation was a travesty, but to think that the boy who saved them all might have been abandoned with some hurtful muggles!

But she was getting ahead of herself. "Harry Potter? His parents weren't Lily and James Potter, were they?" Helga, she hoped she was wrong about this.

By the way Merlin's head shot up looking confused, she wasn't getting her wish. "How do you know about his parents?"

Oh dear. She was going to have to talk to Minerva and Albus about this. The Boy Who Lived in an abusive home! How could Albus have let this happen?! First however, her little badger needed an explanation.

"His parents died at the end of the war," she told him gently; she never liked discussing the war with students, especially ones so young. But she needed to get the point across. "The _Wizarding_ War, just like yours did. Harry Potter is a wizard." She watched the boy's face flow through several different emotions, primarily shock and confusion. "Did Harry ever mention or do anything that might seem like accidental magic?"

"I . . . I don't think so. But, we weren't in the same classes and we couldn't really see each other much." Why on earth . . . "I mean, our relatives didn't like us talking and we never knew why, I guess the Dursleys must hate magic too and they knew about both of us so they kept us apart . . . Anyway, we both have cousins who went to our school – Dudley and Mordred both still go there with him – and they would tell their parents if they saw us spending time together and then we'd be -" _punished_. "Well, we weren't allowed."

The boy didn't say it but he was about to, and they both knew it. She reached across her desk to squeeze his hand reassuringly, again having to supress the need to hug him tightly. She tried to think quickly on what she'd heard – she didn't want the silence to stretch too long.

It seemed that both of their relatives weren't too fond of magic and, well, Minerva had already warned her that that might be the case in the Emrys home, but the boy seemed to think that the same must go for Harry Potter too. Not to mention that their relatives had clearly tried to isolate the boys, dictating their friends and free time with the threat of _punishments_. Now, in an ordinary household that might mean a few small chores or withholding dessert, but she had seen how little Merlin had reacted to touch, she was not naïve. She just had to hope that it wasn't as bad for poor Harry Potter as well.

"Now Merlin, this is very important. I understand if you aren't ready to talk about what goes on in your home yet, and as long as you're safe at Hogwarts I won't push you." She took a deep breath. "But your Harry might be in danger where he is, so I need you to tell me everything you think could be worrying about how he's treated by his relatives."

The boy paused, looking uncertain. "I- They've never hit him," he said slowly, as if unsure about how much he could say. "I mean, his cousin like to bully him but Harry can usually outrun him, and his uncle and aunt didn't touch him."

Pomona allowed herself to breathe a little easier. At least it wasn't _that_ bad. She was sure she was still about to hear some terrible things about Harry Potter, but at least she could rule out physical abuse. "That's good," she told him with a gentle smile. "Can you tell me anything else that was happening?"

"He has a lot of chores." Merlin's voice was still rather shaky and slow. "Not like regular stuff. He's expected to cook every morning, they make him clean the bathroom and scrub the floors and weed the garden. He gets a list of stuff to do most days, especially in the holidays, and if he doesn't do it all he doesn't get to eat that night. And when he does eat it's only the burnt bits and a lot less than the rest of them. You can tell when you look at him, he's skin and bones."

As he had been talking, Pomona noticed his voice getting quicker; not exactly more confidant, but more frantic. Skin and bones – she wondered if he noticed that that was how he looked when he first came to Hogwarts in September. His voice had caught in a few places and she wondered how much of what he was saying applied to him in his own home as well. But that conversation would have to wait for later . . .

"I see." She controlled her voice carefully, making sure not to let on how his words were affecting her. "Is that everything?" Oh how she prayed that his answer was yes.

He looked at her hesitantly before lowering his eyes again to where he was twisting his hands into his robes. "There's one more thing." She steeled herself for the worst. "There's his cupboard."

 _His cupboard._ Goodness, she really didn't like the wording of that. She forcibly stopped her mind from wandering and waited patiently for little Merlin to finish what he was clearly struggling to tell her.

"For as long as either of us can remember, Harry's always slept in the cupboard under the stairs." _That poor boy_. "It's just always been his room. He doesn't have a proper bed and he's never had any toys or anything. There's not even a proper mattress, just this sort of cot, the way he explained it. Sometimes they'll lock him in for a few days if he's done something to _really_ upset them."

 _Don't think about it. Don't think about it._

"And when they do this, Merlin, do they let him eat?"

He shook his head. "He's learnt to pick the lock though, so he can steal things from the fridge after they've gone to sleep. And they still let him out for the bathroom, so he sneaks water from the taps while he's in there."

Dear Merlin, what were Albus and Minerva going to say? Oh Minerva had been so protective of the Potters when they were in schoolHH, she had even visited baby Harry once or twice before they went into hiding. She would be utterly heartbroken at the knowledge.

"Merlin," she found herself saying, "You aren't going to need to worry about Harry anymore. We're going to sort this out, so he won't have to say with those people, I promise you."

"Really?" He had tears in his eyes as he looked towards her with such sorrow and distrust.

She nodded firmly and reached over to grip his hand firmly. "Now, this is going to be tough," she told him, "but if we can deal with your own home situation at the same time, then we can make sure both you _and_ Harry can be safe and _together_."

The look of hope on his face was enough to lift her spirits just a little, though they sunk again when she saw him force it back.

He swallowed harshly before saying, "Not until Harry's safe. I won't risk you moving me away while he's still stuck there. I have to be there to look after him."

Pomona considered it for a moment before nodding in acquiescence. That was reasonable, and she wanted Harry moved as soon as possible anyway, she would get both boys safe soon.

"One more thing," he asked her, "if- _when_ you move him somewhere safe, can I be there?" She opened her mouth to say that she didn't think it was a good idea, but he cut her off before she could get any words out. "It's just that he won't trust anyone you send. He doesn't even know he has magic, if wizards show up to take him away he won't trust them. _He knows better than to trust adults_." She didn't think the last sentence was meant for her ears but she heard it anyway. It did not surprise her, if his own home situation was in any way similar to Harry Potter's then she was shocked that he had ever confided this much to her.

"Very well," she said, "I promise to talk to the people who'll be in charge of it, but I can't guarantee it will happen."

The boy nodded and gave a small smile. It looked as though a weight had been lifted from him. It gave her hope to maybe see him even lighter once he got his own home issues off his chest.

Not today, but soon.

* * *

"I told you they were the _worst_ kind of muggles!" Was the first thing Minerva said after she finished viewing Pomona's memory in Albus's pensive.

She couldn't believe that he had left Lily and James's son with those creatures – for they certainly weren't people – and had not even thought to check on him once in the years since he had left him there. The Boy Who Lived made to sleep in a cupboard and starved of food! She was livid. She would not be forgiving Albus for this any time soon.

"Now, Minerva, you know what children are like, the boy could be exaggerating . . ." No matter the words that were coming out of that old coot's mouth, he still looked incredibly pale. Though he did not look nearly guilty enough in her opinion.

She paced the length of his office. "You said he was being watched, you said _both boys were being watched!_ " For she could not forget about Merlin Emrys either, the poor child was obviously living in similar, if not worse, conditions to his friend. She had raised her concerns with Albus at the time of both boys being placed with their relatives, but he had assured her they were being looked out for by a trusted source. Though, it was really only meant to be for Harry, it was pure coincidence that both the boys' families lived so close.

"Well, Arabella expressed some concerns that neither boy ever looked particularly happy when she saw them, but she never said anything about _abuse_ ," he said defensively. Well, as defensive as Albus-I-Know-Best-Dumbledore could ever really sound. He held his hand out towards her placatingly. She had never wanted to slap something more.

"If not once in, all the years she has been there, had she ever seen either of them look even remotely happy, then _of course_ there must be something going on at home. I don't know how you could be so wilfully ignorant, Albus!" She was not quite shouting, but she sure felt like it. She looked over to Pomona for support but her dear friend just looked devastated rather than angry.

"I had truly thought they would both be safer with their relatives," he justified. Still, even know he spoke painstakingly calmly. Even with all the horrors they had heard tonight, he still had the nerve to look at her like she was overreacting.

"It is time you learn, Albus, that blood isn't everything." She glared at him fiercely and while he didn't flinch, he at least had the decency and good sense to look away.

"Now," she started, a fair bit calmer, "I do believe Augusta Longbottom would be willing to take in Mister Potter, after all dear Alice was originally supposed to be his God-Mother. And I imagine he would get on fine with her grandson; they are barely a few days apart in age, so it seems like our best option."

"My dear Minerva, whatever do you mean? We cannot remove young Harry from his aunt's residence."

"Excuse me!"

"Now, Albus, really!" Finally, Pomona spoke up, the voice of reason that was so sorely needed between the two Gryffindors.

"Are you completely mad?" she asked him. How on earth could he even consider leaving a child in such conditions? This was not the man she agreed to work for. This was not the man she respected. "Why ever not?!"

"You are aware of the bloodwards around the property keeping him safe. They will only stay intact if he lives with someone who shares his mother's blood." He spoke completely rationally, as if what was coming out of his mouth wasn't complete dog shit.

"And what will it matter how safe it keeps him from the outside world if he is to starve to death while locked in the broom cupboard he calls his bedroom!?" She yelled.

"Minerva is right, Albus. We can't leave the child there to suffer. If he were moved to a magical family, like the Longbottoms, then _they_ will be able to protect him." Oh how she could just kiss Pomona for being there. She had the thought of calling for Filius also; surely his cool Ravenclaw logic would only help. Or even Severus, for as much as he hated James Potter, even he would speak strongly against leaving a child in such a home.

"I'll send another letter to Petunia -"

"Petunia Evans was a hatefully little girl! And I can only imagine how much worse she is now she's been married to that _brute_ for however many years!" she told him furiously. "Do you think that she is somehow unaware that her nephew is being starved and forced to sleep in a cupboard? Whatever way you thought you could manipulate her to care for the boy has surely failed! And now you want to send a bloody letter and expect her to change her ways! Why, even if she did, that boy would still know that he's living in a home where he isn't loved! You cannot allow him to stay there!"

She was almost out of breath after such a speech. As it were, Pomona was kind enough to bring her a glass of firewhisky to calm her down. Albus regarded her calmly, that damn twinkle still in his eyes. She wanted to poke her wand through his eye socket and see if it still bloody twinkled.

"I will go speak to them myself, then," he said magnanimously. "I'm sure being visited by a wizard, letting them know we're watching will scare them straight." He smiled proudly as if he had solved all of their problems; obviously he hadn't been listening when she said that Harry wouldn't feel loved, that or he simply thought that that wouldn't matter. She scowled darkly at him.

Before she could send him another angry retort, Pomona spoke up. "Even assuming that that solves everything for Harry Potter – which I severely doubt, Albus – what about my poor Merlin. You heard him clearly, he won't speak up about his own abuse until his friend is safe, and myself and Minerva have been quite clear in our suspicions that _his_ abuse is at least somewhat physical."

The old man looked as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Well I suppose I might also stop to speak with the Kings since I am in the area."

This time even Pomona looked likely to hit the old fool. Oh how he underestimated how protective she was of her badgers. She looked at him firmly, "Both boys will be removed from their relatives, or I will go to the Ministry and the Daily Prophet myself." And with that declaration Minerva watched her good friend strut out of the room.

Albus gave a weary, put upon sigh, as if he were the victim in all this. "What am I to do, Minerva?"

She rolled her eyes at the fool's theatrics. "If you are so concerned about the boy's safety, simply bring him to Hogwarts. There are no better protections anywhere than the castle." And then she, too, marched out of the headmaster's office, missing the gleam in his eyes.


	11. Christmas Morning

**Hello! Thank you all for the follows, faves, and reviews. For the person who reviewed saying "Finally..." I have no idea if this was you being glad I'm updating or being glad something is finally being done about the boys' abusive homes . . . Like that was pretty confusing for a one word review - but thank you, still, whatever you meant by it.**

 **I just wanna give a heads up for this chapter, it's a lot of internal diologue instead** **of people interacting that much. I know some people might find that boring but I hope not. Also some of the description for Dumbledore's office I just nicked from the book.  
**

 **Anyway, Enjoy! And don't forget to vote in the poll!**

 **Chapter 11 – Christmas Morning**

When Merlin woke up on Christmas morning he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't to see a pile of gifts at the end of his bed.

He had been rather on edge the last few days. After his long and emotionally draining conversation with his head of house, he'd felt off. A large part of him felt guilty; he had spilled all the secrets about Harry's life to someone who he didn't know whether or not could be trusted. But he also felt at least a little hopeful. He didn't know if Professor Sprout would keep her word to get Harry out of there, but she seemed like she really wanted to help, and that was already far more than he had experienced with most adults. He supposed that Harry being a wizard too might have helped their case.

The thought that he might've lost Harry forever still stung. He knew that they were in the clear now (and that they might even be better off, in the long run) because he had spoken about him to Professor Sprout, but knowing that if Harry was ordinary, liked he'd always believed him to be, then they would have been pulled apart. It wasn't fair that muggle-borns could talk to their family about magic, but that he had almost lost his brother because of it. Just because they weren't a conventional family didn't mean they were any less of one.

And then, of course, there was the other great mystery clogging up his mind: Harry was a wizard too.

He thought, surely, that he would have known if Harry was like him. He had known about magic as long as he could remember (his memories of his parents filling in the gaps for him); surely if Harry had done accidental magic, if anything like that had been mentioned to him, he would have put two and two together. He felt like a fool for never having known. Unless, they were all wrong? His uncle was a squib, a muggle born to magical parents, maybe Harry was the same? Professor Sprout had said that his parent had magic, but she didn't specify that Harry had magic too . . .

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped that Harry was the best wizard ever. Because then Harry would be able to come to Hogwarts with him, and he wouldn't have to worry as much about looking out for him because he would have the means to take care of himself: magic. They could be _together_ and _safe_. Just like Professor Sprout promised.

And because Merlin had been so caught up in this hurricane of thoughts, it hadn't really occurred to him that he would wake up on Christmas morning with a stack of presents at the end of his bed.

He spared a brief glance for his empty dorm room (all of his roommates had gone home for the holidays), and allowed a bright grin to form on his face. He hadn't gotten any Christmas presents since his parents died. He shot a quick look at Aithusa, who was lounging on top of the heap contentedly, and then moved her onto his pillow with an indulgent smile.

He was surprised to see that there was more than he was expecting. He assumed he had gotten something off Gwaine, Lance, Mithian and Arthur, as he had gotten them all something in return, but there were several extra packages that he couldn't for the life of him imagine who they could be from.

The first one he picked up was from Gwaine, it was a book called _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Merlin knew it to be a book full of children's stories. When Gwaine had referenced one of the tales, weeks ago, and Merlin hadn't recognised it he had been almost personally offended. He had declared that all young witches and wizards should know these stories, it was usually the first stories you'd hear as a child and he thought they should all have to hear them at least once. Merlin smiled at the thought and decided that once he had read them all he might loan the book to Harry. He thought for a moment that he maybe he would know some of the stories. If all wizards read this to their kids then maybe his parents had once read it to him. It was a nice thought.

Next he moved on to Mithian's gift. It was another book. He was starting to think that his friends might have gotten him confused for a Ravenclaw. He opened the wrapping to reveal _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. He frowned in confusion at the book title. He knew that Mithian came from a pure-blood line but owning this sort of book seemed very blood-purist, and he knew that she wasn't that. He opened the front over of the book to see that she had left him a note.

 _Dear Merlin,_

 _Merry Christmas!_

 _I know that this must seem like a rather odd gift to receive, and you must be wondering if I'll suddenly start banging on about blood-traitors and muggle-born scum once you next see me, but I promise that's not why I gave you the book._

 _You seemed to be rather ignorant about your family history – though, of course this isn't your fault – so I thought that this book might be an interesting read, to see what families married into yours and who your distant cousins are and whatnot. As I've told you before, most families with old histories are at least minimally related, so I thought this might be a good way to see if you have any distant family worth getting to know._

 _I do hope you don't find this insensitive._

 _Ps. it might be a good idea to learn about the other families in there as well – most pure-bloods look down on wizards who don't know the basics of family hierarchies._

Merlin frowned slightly at the Ps. but other than that he thought it was a rather thoughtful gift. While he was hesitant at the thought off finding more of his father's family, mainly because of his . . . _experience_ with Cenred, the idea of looking into any magical relatives of his mother seemed like a great idea. Of course he wouldn't mind finding his mother's muggle relatives either, but he didn't think they would be mentioned in a book like that. He did not hold out much hope that he would find anyone closely related. After all, surely Cenred would have tried to ship him off to some other relative if there was one.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and moved on to the next package in the pile. This one was from Lance and was, thankfully, not another book. He read the brief note (wishing him a Merry Christmas with an apology for not getting anything more personal), and opened the lumpy packaging to reveal some brand-new quills, a fresh bottle of black ink, and a chocolate frog. Merlin smiled, he didn't really mind that Lance's gift was more generic than the others he had received so far. At least Merlin knew for sure that he would definitely be using this gift. In truth, most of Merlin's gifts to his friends had been the same. He had simply owl-ordered a bunch of chocolates and sweets and gotten everyone a scarf in their house colours (he wasn't really used to giving gifts).

Merlin narrowed his eyes suspiciously when it came to opening Arthur's present, because although Gwaine was the one of his friends who would find the idea of a prank gift hilarious, Arthur would be the one most likely to actually do it. He had dropped several hints before he had taken the train home, and all of them had left Merlin feeling uncomfortably on edge. So, with an ounce of caution, Merlin carefully un-wrapped the harmless looking bundle.

The first thing he saw was a drawing, a sketch more like. It was the two of them, Arthur and Merlin, but they looked different – older. Arthur still had his blond hair and smug smile, but there was also a red cape draped around his shoulders and a sword at his belt. Merlin, though, was the one who looked the most different – he wasn't really skinny or gangly any more, he looked like he'd filled out, he looked happy and confident and assured. Merlin couldn't imagine ever looking like that. But that wasn't all. While Arthur had had his cape and his sword, Merlin had this triangular looking scarf around his neck and a great staff in his hands. _King Arthur and his trusty warlock, reunited_ , it said underneath, in Arthur's handwriting. And then beneath that, _Ps. sorry I messed up your ears, I accidently made it look like they actually fit your head._

Merlin choked out a laugh, but it just ended up sounding a little like a sob. God, why was he crying at this? He was happy, he was definitely happy. He didn't think he'd ever been this happy before actually. Maybe that was why he was crying. He'd heard about it, and read it in some books, but happy crying wasn't something he'd ever come across personally. But even though he was most assuredly happy, there was a small pang in his chest that he couldn't explain.

He moved to pin up the drawing to the canopy of above his bed, when he realised that there was something underneath the drawing. _The Once and Future King._ That phrase gave him another small pang in his chest but he was smiling brilliantly at the book. Suddenly his set of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and a red and gold scarf seemed like an incredibly inadequate gift to give in return.

Merlin Emrys feeling inadequate, what's new?

He shook off the feeling and moved towards the unexpected additions to his gifts. There were two parcels and two separate envelopes left to open. He decided to leave the letters for last and grabbed a squishy-looking package.

It turned out to be a knitted jumper with a big letter M on it. It was a dark blue colour with the letter in black. It looked like it would be a little big on him, but it also looked incredibly cosy. It was clearly hand-made, and for the life of him Merlin had no idea who could possibly have spent so much time and effort making him something like this. He shook the wrapping paper, hoping that perhaps a note from the sender would have been enclosed. Still feeling slightly confused, he shrugged and moved to the last parcel.

It was a photo album. It was a photo album full of his parents. His dad more than his mum, but still. This was what they looked like. He paused on one of his mother, smiling, with a two year old asleep in her arms. That was him. He didn't remember being held by his mother like this, but oh how he wished he did. The way she was holding him made him think of Harry. It was loving and protecting, but not constricting. He thought that he had definitely hugged Harry like that before, but he had never thought he had been on the receiving end of that kind of hug. Well now he had proof he was wrong. He watched his mother's smile grow fond as she looked between his sleeping two year old self, and whoever was taking the picture. He quite happily imagined his father behind the camera. For the second time that morning Merlin was crying with happiness.

He flicked to the next page to find his father as a first year surrounded by five other boys (one of them with bright ginger hair) all of them in an alarmingly red room. From Arthur's descriptions, he assumed it was in Gryffindor tower, either the dorms or the common room. He understood now what Mr Weasley must have meant when he said he looked rather like his father. Mr Weasley! That must be who this was from! He had asked for a copy of any pictures after all, he just hadn't been expecting a whole album full.

He quickly flipped to the back, looking for a letter replying to his own. Though of course if he hadn't answered the letter Merlin would be fine with that, seeing as he had clearly already put so much time and effort into putting together a whole album for him –

There! A note fell out.

 _Dear Merlin Emrys_ ,

 _I was so incredibly pleased when my sons passed along your letter! I was starting to think that my ambushing you at the train station had scared you off! Either that or my boys were up to far too much mischief that you thought associating with them was not quite worth hearing some boring old tales from a stranger._

 _I'm sorry you remember so little of them both; it saddens me greatly to think that your three years with them is only remembered through a brief snippet or two of memory. Since you recalled so little of their appearance I owled some old friends and asked them for any pictures or stories they have of Bal and Hunith. There turned out to be a lot more than I thought, so my wife helped me put it together into a little album for you. There were less stories than I'd hoped, but if you look in the second to last page you'll find a few letters stuffed into the picture places (a story or two of my own, too)._

 _Professor McGonagall wouldn't bite if you ask her for a tale or two of your father, but I actually did ask on your behalf – she was one of the first I went to for a picture and a story. Though, I'm sure she has more than what she wrote down, if you ever decided to ask her anything about him._

 _I hope all of this helps you get to know them a little better. I'm sure they would be very proud of you._

 _Arthur Weasley._

 _Ps. I hope you don't mind that my wife, Molly, took it upon herself to make you a little Christmas gift. She always knits our children a jumper every year, she was rather happy at the prospect of tackling putting a new letter into fabric. We both hope you have a very Merry Christmas._

He stared blankly at the letter for a few moments. Well at least that explained the jumper.

He could hardly believe it. A whole album and a stack full of stories, all about his parents. It just seemed so bizarre, to have the chance to learn so much about them. He had given it up a long time ago, the idea of knowing about his parents. But to have this now was just incredible. It almost felt surreal.

He resisted the urge to open and read all of them right that second, and instead assured himself that he could do just that once he opened his last two envelopes.

He frowned slightly as he took up the first envelope. It seemed as though there was a card in there, but it seemed to small for the envelope. From what he'd seen so far from wizards, that wasn't a mistake they tended to make seeing as they could just shrink the envelope. Though, he didn't think that Christmas cards were very wizarding either. Perhaps it was from one of the muggle-borns in his year, after all shrinking charms were a bit advanced for a first year so he supposed it would make sense.

However, upon opening the envelope, he realised just how mistaken he had been. A great smile stole across his face as he recognised a hand-made muggle Christmas card with _Merry Christmas Merlin_ written across the top in very familiar handwriting (which had clearly been attempted to be made neater than usual). Harry had sent him a Christmas card. Of course it was custom for cards to be made in class during the lead up to the holidays, all primary schools did it, and they encouraged children to gift the hand-made cards to their parents or siblings. The card depicted an evergreen tree, coloured in with green felt-tip pen, with sequins strategically glued in sloping lines across the tree in an imitation of tinsel.

Merlin knew from his own experience that such cards were usually binned the second the school day was over by both Harry and himself. They could hardly have been seen exchanging cards, and besides, even if they had, the cards would have been found and thrown out by their relatives. Keeping such things had always been pointless. And trying to gift them to their respective families was a lesson in futility. They had both learnt better than that.

But now things were different. Now they had a harmless way of communicating and they could finally act like brothers should. For his own part, Merlin had sent Harry a long apology at the start of his letter, saying that he couldn't visit him this Christmas but that he hoped he'd be seeing him soon. He couldn't bring himself to mention the promise Professor Sprout had made him about the two of them being safe soon. He couldn't promise something like that, only to crush Harry when it all turned out to be a lie. But along with his apology note, he had sent a Chocolate Cauldron, to be eaten there and then before it could be confiscated, and a card charmed by Professor Flitwick to start singing wizarding carols when opened (he had warned Harry to only open it when he was alone and certain that no one could be listening). He had looked forward to being able to finally give Harry a Christmas present after all these years.

He proudly took Harry's hand-made card and secured it next to Arthur's sketch of the two of them. Merlin decided that he would take his favourite picture he could find of his parents and then secure it next to them as well.

It had been his first Christmas in years, and what Arthur, Harry and the Weasleys had given him had already made the first hour better than the last eight years combined.

But it wasn't quite over yet; he still had one last thing to open.

The front of the envelope simply said, _Merlin Emrys_ , in swirly handwriting that he didn't recognise. Intrigued, he opened the letter further to see who it could possibly be from. It read:

 _To Mr Merlin Emrys,_

 _I do hope you are having a very Merry Christmas._

 _I sincerely wish that you would be inclined to meet me in my office at some point in the afternoon, later today. I hope that leaving the general time for you to decide will allow this to not disrupt any plans you have for the day too much._

 _I believe we have several things to discuss, mainly concerning your magical nature and an issue that was recently brought to me by your Head of House._

 _I do hope that you do not mind your Christmas being interrupted, but I rather thought that you might jump at the opportunity to see your brother today._

 _Ps. I am quite fond of Liquorish Wands._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

* * *

The Headmaster . . .

He was going to see Harry today?

And his magic . . .

He was going to see Harry today?

Did that mean that they were moving him somewhere safer?

 _He was going to see Harry today?_

He could barely believe it. It had been months and months since he had seen his brother.

 _He was going to see Harry today!_

* * *

After asking the Fat Friar to accompany him to where the entrance to the Headmaster's office was, Merlin stared down the gargoyle in confusion.

He had made his way up there the first free second he had, after he had seen Professor Dumbledore leave the high table at lunch. Merlin had spent the majority of his Christmas dinner staring at the man and waiting for him to leave. It had been almost painful to have to wait until the afternoon to see the Headmaster. After being given the knowledge that he'd be seeing his brother, having to wait so long for it felt like torture.

Of course, the moment the man did finally leave, a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect had started asking him random questions. He had really wanted to get away but she was kind and friendly, and he really didn't want to be rude to someone who was being sincere, especially a prefect. She said her name was Tonks, which seemed a little odd, but lots of wizard names were weird he supposed. And anyhow, he was in no place to judge someone for having an odd name.

The girl had had chin-length, choppy, purple hair when they started the conversation, but half way through she had somehow shifted it to bright blue and down to her shoulders. She hadn't reached for her wand once during, so he knew she hadn't cast a spell (and her eyes never went gold, so he knew it wasn't _that_ kind of magic either), but he didn't know how to ask what she'd done. Apparently, however, his facial expression had spoken for him. She had smirked slightly before saying, "I'm a metamorphmagus," as if that was any explanation at all. Though, in the wizarding world, it probably was. He still didn't ask though, partly because he didn't want to seem like an idiot for not knowing, and partly because what he really wanted was to just be on his way.

Eventually, she clearly realised that his mind was elsewhere, and turned to engage some third year in some small talk. That had left Merlin free to make his escape, and the Friar had been incredibly helpful showing him the way . . .

Now if only he knew how to get past that damned gargoyle he'd be stellar. The entrance was clearly being guarded, but he _had_ been invited. Maybe if he showed the great ugly thing his letter it would let him pass, though he didn't know how stone would be able to read it. He took the letter he'd had clutched tightly in his hands and shoved it in front of the creatures wide, unseeing eyes.

He huffed when it yielded him no results.

He tried re-reading the letter, hoping that he had simply skimmed over the part where some sort of password was mentioned, but he really had no idea. And why on Earth did he mention Liquorice Wands? Maybe he was angling for Merlin to bring him some . . . It was Christmas Day, after all. "Where the hell am I supposed to get some Liquorice Wands now?" he muttered to himself, under his breath.

And suddenly the Gargoyle just . . . stepped aside.

Cursing his own stupidity, because _of course_ that was the password hint, Merlin bounded up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, his anticipation threatening to swallow him whole. He still couldn't believe it. He was seeing Harry today!

He pulled himself to a quick stop, before he could barrel head-first into the door. Knocking hesitantly, he steeled his nerves and took a deep breath. The letter had said that there were other things to discuss, he knew he wouldn't get to see his brother straight away, he had to prepare himself for a potentially long conversation.

The door opened itself into a large round office filled with so many things that Merlin didn't even know the name of. Not to mention what was probably hundreds of books, as well. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, behind which, the headmaster sat, watching him with an amused smile upon his face.

Merlin promptly realised that he had been gawking and the contents of the office. And that was before his eyes fell upon a beautiful bird sat on its perch. It had striking feathers of red, orange and yellow – each colour cascading into the next – looking like fire incarnate. This was clearly a phoenix, and it was one of the most beautiful creatures that Merlin had ever laid eyes on. It was, perhaps, second only to the dragon he'd seen beneath Gringotts that day in Diagon Alley.

The creature inclined its head towards him, almost bowing, and Merlin tentatively reached out to brush his fingers across its feathers. It was truly magnificent.

"Fascinating," the Headmaster commented, snapping Merlin out of his reverie. "Fawkes has always been friendly to the students who visit my office, but he has never been quite so respectful to them. And he has certainly never bowed before a wizard – that is, until now." Merlin swallowed anxiously, wondering if he had perhaps done something wrong (he didn't like being different), but Professor Dumbledore continued smiling genially at him. "And this does rather confirm a theory of mine," he added as an afterthought.

Merlin, dragged himself away from the phoenix – Fawkes, his mind supplied – and sat himself in the chair opposite the Headmaster's. "A theory?" he asked timidly. He assumed such theory was to do with his different magic, and thought it would be a good way to get the meeting started on the topics Professor Dumbledore had mentioned in his letter. The sooner they got through this part, the sooner he could see Harry again. Though Merlin would admit to being curious at what the Headmaster might have found.

"Yes," he responded, his eyes twinkling, as was commonplace for him. "We have much to discuss, young Warlock . . ."


	12. Turkey Sandwiches

**Hello! Thank you to anyone who reviewed, followed, or favourited! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

 **I wanted to ask people again to please vote in the poll. Also, as I'm sure you've all gathered by now, in this story Harry will be spending the next few years at Hogwarts before his first year starts. Because of this, I'm not sure whether he'd still be a Lion. We all know that the reason harry said 'not slytherin' in the books is because the only thing he'd seen about the house was Malfoy and hearing about Voldemort. But that wouldn't be the case in this story. So I wanted to ask people if they would prefer me to ignore the facts and just keep him in gryffindor or follow logic and make him a slytherin? I might make this a poll as well, since people might prefer that to sending it as a review.**

 **Sorry that was so long-winded, enjoy the new chapter!**

 **Chapter 12 – Turkey Sandwiches**

"We have much to discuss, young Warlock . . ." The Headmaster paused, thoughtfully. "At least, I do believe that is the correct term."

Merlin's face scrunched in confusion, he'd never heard any of the other wizards being called that before. According to the muggles, wizards, warlocks and sorcerers were all interchangeable, but he didn't think he'd ever heard the use of any word other than witch or wizard to describe himself and those around him.

Except . . . well, the sorting hat. The hat had used the same term, 'young Warlock'. He hadn't really thought about it at the time, being so new to the wizarding world, he hadn't realised that everyone was always called wizards or witches. He'd mostly forgotten about that, if he was honest with himself. He'd been so caught up in being called 'the embodiment of magic itself', he hadn't ever really considered that there were more clues about what he was in the other things the hat had said to him.

"What does it mean?" he asked Professor Dumbledore, cautiously interested.

"Now, my boy, that is the question, isn't it?" he answered brightly.

Merlin stared blankly at the man. What kind of answer was that?

The Headmaster chuckled at his befuddlement and he didn't appreciate it. He had come here expecting answers, not to be led in pointless circles.

"Forgive me, my boy, but there has not been a Warlock in centuries, perhaps millennium. Some even say that it was the original Merlin who was the last one, before they all died out, that is. But that is purely historians' speculation." The man had his arms folded placidly in front of him, but his gaze was sharp with intent and curiosity. That odd little twinkle in his eye was ever present, as always. He was looking at Merlin almost like he was studying him; like he was a puzzle that was waiting to be cracked. It put him on edge, immediately.

"What makes you think I am one, if there hasn't been one is hundreds of years?" he questioned, boldly. Well, perhaps it wouldn't have been bold for anyone else, but it certainly was for Merlin. He was far more used to never questioning the judgement of his betters.

"I trust – being raised as you were – that you are not aware of your family's history?"

Merlin couldn't contain a flinch at the phrasing. Ever since his talk with his Head of House, he had been left feeling constantly tense. And, with the topic being so abruptly brought up, he struggled to contain his reaction. He knew, from the Headmaster's letter, that his home life would be a discussion point within their talk, but he thought it would be eased in to the conversation. And he certainly didn't see what _that_ had to do with him potentially being a Warlock, whatever a Warlock even was.

"Ah, I see," the Headmaster stated. "Forgive me, my boy, I merely meant to say that in being raised by a squib, he may have neglected to share the history of his wizarding family. Particularly, since I am aware that he took his mother's maiden name, in a bid to appear more muggle."

He allowed himself to relax minutely, at the fact that it was an unintentional slip-up on the Professor's part, but it still left him feeling uneasy. "No," he said, dully. "I don't really know anything about it." He forced himself to keep his voice level and controlled, he didn't like letting people know they were getting under his skin. And even with the Headmaster's kind demeanour and benevolent manner, there was something about him that left Merlin feeling like an insect under a microscope. Part of him hoped that it was just residual paranoia, but the rest of him was screaming to be on his guard.

He wished he had thought a head and asked his Head of House to accompany him. He had felt at ease with her.

He was so stupid. He hadn't even had the forethought to mention to anyone where he was going. Anything could happen to him and no one would even notice anything amiss until after the holidays were over. Just the mere mention of being able to see Harry had thrown all rational thought out the window. And now he was stuck there, with a man he'd only met once in his life, who was much stronger than him. He didn't want to know the sort of damage that could be done with a wand rather than a fist.

"Merlin?"

Oh God, he'd been silent for far too long, hadn't he? He just – he needed to just –

"Sorry!" he choked out. "I just – I'm sorry! Tell me – whatever – about my family history. I promise, sir, I'm listening."

* * *

The boy had been silent for an abnormally long time. And he seemed to be growing paler by the moment. Albus wasn't quite sure what to do in such a situation.

Pomona had warned him that the boy was . . . sensitive. And, of course, he knew all about how they boy's stray magic had knocked unconscious two of his Professors and the boy himself, when he had panicked before. He didn't want to make the wrong move and complicate the situation before they had even discussed anything.

"Merlin?" he tried, hoping that calling his name would be enough to bring the boy out of his head and back to the reality of the situation, where he was perfectly safe in the office. Truly, what did the boy have to fear in an environment such as this?

"Sorry!" the child spluttered. "I just – I'm sorry! Tell me – whatever – about my family history. I promise, sir, I'm listening."

Albus regarded the child with some wariness. He was not quite sure what had set the boy off, nor was he sure what it was that had brought about such a defensive reaction. He would have to watch what he was saying even closer than he had first assumed.

"I see," he said simply. He saw the boy gulp.

"Well, my boy," he carried on; hoping that getting back on topic would cause enough of a distraction for the boy to forget his uneasiness. "Your father descended from a very old, and very powerful, line of wizards. Your ancestors were once believed to not only be Warlocks, but to be Dragon Lords."

"Dragon Lords," the child breathed, awe apparent in his voice. Albus could not imagine that the boy even knew what the title was, but even still, his reaction was something quite impressive. The effect the words were having on the boy seemed instinctual. He was treating the title with reverence, without even knowing anything of it or the power it held.

Albus had been rather proud when he had remembered the Emrys' relation to the Dragon Lords. It was rumoured thousands of years ago, and there were very few outside of the family itself that knew of the prophecy's relevance. It had explained so much: why the boy had felt such a connection to the beast down in the Gringotts vaults, why he had felt its pain and heard its voice calling for him, why his magic had come so completely alive after their encounter.

"I see that you already feel a connection to the term," Albus commented with fascination. The boy nodded blindly, clearly his past misgivings forgotten. "But you must understand, my boy, that no one in your family history has had such a connection to dragons in many hundreds of years. The gift would have been believed to have died out, if not for a prophecy."

"Prophecies are real?"

The Professor chuckled slightly. It was amusing how these children could accept the wonder of magic in their lives and still have such scepticism within them. "Well, my boy, it depends on who you ask. If you were to go to Professor McGonagall she would delight you, I'm sure, with a lecture on all the ways divination and prophecies are utter codswallop. I, however, have faith in some of them. True seers are rare, but they do exist. Why, there is even a Hall of Prophecies at the Ministry of Magic. But, I digress, back to _your_ prophecy.

"It is said by some that your line descended from Merlin himself. It is said by others that he simply blessed your family line. But by _all_ those who believe in prophecies and have knowledge of the old ways, it is believed that Merlin foretold that not only the powers of the Dragon Lords, but the powers of the Old Religion would re-emerge one day in the Emrys line. He decreed that it would take 50 generations, but the power would be restored to the Emrys family. It is the power of the Old Religion, which I believe flows through you, that makes you a Warlock.

"It is an old prophecy that many have forgotten. I, myself, had not thought on in many years until you mentioned your encounter with the Gringotts dragon. And so, I believe that your name meant more to your parents than to simply honour a great wizard. I believe that they remembered the prophecy and that _you_ are the 50th generation since the prophecy was made. You, my boy, hold the power of the Old Religion, and that is why you have this other type of magic within you. It is simply Destiny, young Warlock."

Albus had debated with himself, the sensibility of telling a child that they had more potential power than any being in living memory (though he was careful to never phrase it like that). But, ultimately, he had decided that the boy gaining a mastery of his gifts would only benefit them in the long run. If the boy's connection to Harry Potter was as genuine as he tried to show it to be, then he would make a great ally in the inevitable war to come. And having the boy indebted to him for explaining his gifts could hardly be a hindrance. Albus so no threat in the boy. Besides, he found Hufflepuffs to be of a disposition that made them rather unlikely threats.

The poor child sat quiet and motionless for a few moments, but Albus wasn't worried. This information was a lot to process, anyone would need to take a moment to think, never mind an eleven year old child. Why, Albus remembered his own shock at hearing the prophecy of the Boy Who Lived. Unfortunately he hadn't been able to take a few moments to collect himself, with Sybill unaware of what she had just done and a spy at the door, he hadn't had the chance to process what it all meant until much later. He would allow the boy his moment of reflection.

"You said that there was a hall of Prophecies at the Ministry . . ." Merlin stated, after a few minutes. "Do you think it would be possible to hear what it said?" Albus looked at the boy consideringly. "Not that I don't trust your word or anything," the child hastened to reassure. "I'd just like to know what it says."

The boy's eyes flickered from where his hands were twisting the material of his slightly over-sized sleeves to Albus's face, apparently unable to maintain any sort of eye-contact.

"I'm afraid not, my boy." He ensured that his tone took up a sympathetic note. "You see, the British Ministry of Magic was only founded in 1707, which is less than 300 years ago." When the boy continued to stare blankly at him, he elaborated, "I suppose one so young cannot grasp how short such a time is. Most wizards live to over 100, my boy, which makes it so the Ministry was founded merely three lifetimes ago. Still, assuming each generational gap to be something close to 30 years, 50 generations would take 1500 years. I doubt that prophecies made at such a time were properly recorded; I imagine they simply passed through word of mouth. Though, perhaps your ancestors kept a written copy somewhere, even if I doubt it would be in the language we speak today. Still, you would be better off looking in your family vault for such an artefact; I assure you that I do not have access to such a thing, merely centuries of rumours."

"Rumours? So you don't know for sure?"

"On the contrary, my boy, I am quite certain. For such a thing to have been spoken about for hundreds and hundreds of years, not a single contradiction to be found in the stories across all that time, well then there must be some truth to it. And what _is_ known about the prophecy fits you perfectly," Albus told him with a benevolent smile.

"But, I'm not the only one in the 50th generation, I can't be. Mithian told me that old pure-blood families all marry into each other, an- and so they're all distantly related, so I can't be the only one. Not to mention I have a cousin, what if it's him?!"

Albus allowed himself a warm chuckle. "My boy, don't you think that if there were children everywhere talking to dragons and performing magic that no one else in living history has ever seen, that I would know about it? I have been the Headmaster of this school for very many years, and a teacher here before then; I can assure you that I have never seen anything quite like what you can do."

They boy nodded hesitantly, but still seemed like he didn't quite believe it. No matter, his belief would come with time. The facts were irrefutable.

"Now," Albus said, taking up a much softer tone. The child spooked easily and he didn't want to have to try and have this conversation more than once. "I have been made aware that you had a rather serious conversation with Professor Sprout recently."

It wasn't a question, but the boy whispered, "Yes," anyway. Albus could see his hands were shaking, even though they were wrapped and twisted into his sleeves. The tremors seemed to encompass more than the boy's hands, however, it seemed that his entire being was shaking slightly where he sat. He decided that ignoring the child's trembling would be preferable to confronting it; he had no idea how the child may react to further probing, after all.

"And you did not elaborate much on your own experiences but, rather, those your frien-"

"Brother." The word was said with conviction. It was clear that the boy was frightened, speaking out as he had, but he seemed to have determined that this was something too important to him to let slide.

"Ah, yes. Of course, my boy." He said, placating the child. Albus knew that the child had decided that he was a brother to the Boy Who Lived - he had even used the same epithet in his letter to the boy - but Albus wasn't quite convinced. While it was clear that the child cared for Harry Potter genuinely, Albus knew children could be rather fickle, and he was not certain that this child hadn't simply heard of the famous Harry Potter and attached himself to the celebrity's name when he realised he already knew the boy. And, of course, Albus had seen the pensive memory where the boy seemed to assume that Harry Potter was a muggle, but that only progressed his suspicions further. Albus knew that Harry Potter had performed accidental magic before (as the Chief Warlock – this being only an honorary title of Warlock – of the Wizengamot, Albus had access to the records that the ministry kept of wizards who still had the trace on them), and surely if the two boys were as close as Emrys was making it seem then he would have already know about Harry's magical heritage.

"Well," he continued, careful to keep his suspicion and scepticism out of his voice. "As I was saying, you spoke more about young Mister Potter's situation than your own. Why is that?"

The boy looked startled by the question, as though it wasn't what he was expecting. The child was still shaking minutely, but he seemed prepared to answer him.

"I- I just wanted to go check on him," he answered quietly and slowly, measuring every word. "I had already put my name down on the list to stay over Christmas, but I realised that I needed to make sure Harry was alright. So, I went to ask Pro- Professor Sprout, but she wouldn't let me take my name off unless I talked about why I needed to go home, because she didn't want me going back to _them_. But Harry was more important, so I told her."

Albus wished the boy would make eye-contact. He would have liked to use his passive legilimency to ascertain whether the boy was being truthful. Ah well, he supposed he would just have to see young Harry's reaction to the boy when they met.

"I see," Albus said aloofly. "Well, my boy, I do believe I promised a Christmas reunion. After which, Mister Potter will be staying at Hogwarts on a more permanent basis."

Joy lit up the young boy's face. Albus had been expecting a question of why, but is seemed that the child was simply too happy with the turn of events to give much care to the reasoning.

* * *

Harry didn't like Christmas. It was even worse than Dudley's birthday.

He knew that it was jealousy and that being jealous was wrong, but when it was Christmas he couldn't help but always hope for a miracle. At least on Dudley's birthday he never deluded himself with hope.

It just wasn't fair. He hated watching Dudley get spoiled with presents that he'd break by tomorrow, while he complained that Piers was getting more than him this year. He hated having to watch them all eat that massive turkey with all the stuffing and the potatoes and the vegetables, seeing almost half of it go solely to uncle Vernon.

Today was one of the few days of the year that he wasn't made to cook anything all day - usually he at least made breakfast - but aunt Petunia didn't trust him not to sneak himself some food while he cooked. Freaks didn't get to celebrate Christmas, which means they weren't allowed the food either. But, Harry knew, if he was quiet all day, didn't make a sound and stayed in his cupboard, then aunt Petunia would give him a turkey sandwich - it was usually made from the burnt parts of the meat, but Harry didn't mind; it was from their Christmas dinner, so it was special.

So that's what Harry was doing, sitting quietly in his cupboard and trying to ignore the fact that he really needed a wee. If he made noise trying to undo the lock and sneaking upstairs to the toilet, or worse, asked them to let him out so he could go and wee, then he wouldn't be allowed his turkey sandwich. That, and who knew what Dudley might do to him for ruining Christmas by reminding them he existed.

Harry had managed to get his sandwich for the last three years in a row; he wasn't going to ruin it now.

But then the doorbell rang.

"Boy!"

No. Oh no. Uncle Vernon never spoke to him on Christmas, none of them did. He was supposed to sit quietly and then get his sandwich. He wasn't supposed to talk or leave his cupboard, but he wasn't supposed to ignore uncle Vernon either. It was a lose-lose situation. And he'd be the only one doing any losing.

"Boy! Don't you dare ignore me!"

Harry swallowed his disappointment. He wasn't getting his sandwich tonight.

It took him a moment, trying to fiddle with the latch from his side of the door was a bit difficult. He managed to open it and resolved that he would stay silent, if at all possible; maybe if he did as he was told and aunt Petunia was in a good mood then he would still get his turkey sandwich.

He hesitantly entered the living-room through the open door and stared determinedly at his feet, uncle Vernon didn't think freaks should get to look him in the eye. Usually, Harry couldn't care less about all of the Dursley's stupid rules, in fact, he usually made a point of breaking as many as he could without losing food privileges or getting himself locked in the cupboard for longer than a day. But not today. It was Christmas, and he really wanted to eat on Christmas.

"Answer the door, _boy_ , and get rid of them. I don't know who they think they are, calling on Christmas day! I swear – if it's those bloody carollers again, I'll wring their necks I will." Harry paused, letting his uncle rant and waiting for his dismissal. He wouldn't risk losing his sandwich because uncle Vernon thought he had walked off while he was still talking to him.

The bell rang again, followed by a knock this time. "Well, what are you lazing about for, _useless boy_?! Go answer it!"

Harry walked calmly until he was clear of the living-room, and then let himself run down the rest of the hallway. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach up and slide the door chain off, but he managed. He couldn't hear any singing, so he thought any carollers were probably safe.

Harry opened the door a few inches to peek his head out; he knew that the t-shirt falling off his shoulders wouldn't protect him from the blast of cold air that would be let in as soon as he opened the door properly, so he shielded himself with it while he could.

But when he saw who stood there he couldn't have cared less for the cold, or his clothes, or even his Turkey sandwich.

Merlin was there.

He barrelled forward, wrapping his arms around his brother, relishing in the fact that he didn't have to worry about bothering any injuries for once. There wasn't even a second's pause before he felt two arms wrap around him as well. In that moment, it didn't matter that the temperature was probably in the negatives; Harry hadn't felt this warm in a while.

Harry craned his head to look up, still resting it against his brother's chest as he did, and a blinding smile met his own. Merlin had gotten taller. And less skinny - Harry used to be able to feel each of his ribs separately when they hugged like this before - he was _still_ skinny, but not like before. He supposed that his magic school wouldn't have any reason to withhold students' meals. He wondered what that was like.

And then the penny dropped.

"Why aren't you at school?" he asked, stepping back suddenly. "You- you haven't been with Cenred this whole holiday have you?" He voice shook slightly; he felt sick at the thought. He really hadn't been careful when he'd hugged his brother, what if he'd hurt him? Harry narrowed his eyes as he looked at Merlin but he couldn't see anything wrong with him, he was even smiling.

Merlin shook his head, still grinning, and he reached out a hand to ruffle Harry's hair - as if it could be made any messier. "No, I've been at the school, don't worry. But I came here with Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, to get you."

Only then did Harry notice the old man stood behind Merlin. He was wearing bright blue clothes that kind of looked like an ill-fitting dress (he thought Merlin might have called them robes before), and he wore a pointy hat to match. He had a long white beard and long hair. Harry likened him to a skinny Santa Claus wearing blue. The man gave a kind smile and a wave, but didn't say anything before Merlin was carrying on with his explanation.

"It turns out that you're a wizard, just like I am! And so Headmaster Dumbledore said it wasn't safe with the Dursleys any more, so you're gonna come up to the castle to live there! You're coming to Hogwarts, Harry!"

The words were said with such enthusiasm, but they weren't really registering for Harry. He wasn't a wizard.

"I'm not a wizard," he told them blankly.

"No, you are!" Merlin enthused. "Apparently your parents were too. They never died in a car accident, Harry; they were killed in the war like mine were."

Harry swallowed, trying to process the information. Merlin had told him what he remembered of his parents when he explained to Harry that he was a wizard. Maybe his parents might have been magic, but he wasn't. Merlin had told him the stories of his accidental magic, but nothing like that had ever happened to him – not that he'd ever noticed. And he told them both as much.

Where Merlin seemed to falter at his words, the Professor he had brought with him, though he had frowned in confusion for a moment, seemed only too happy to explain. "You see, Harry, sometimes when we're young our magic manifests itself in way we don't understand. Have you ever hoped strongly for something small and have it come true?" Harry though about how sometimes when it had been over two days without food, and the latch on his cupboard was sticking so he couldn't manage to open it, he would suddenly find an old biscuit or two lost in his blanket.

He nodded at the man. The smile he gave Harry was at such a contrast to the thoughts in his mind, it made his head spin for a moment.

"Usually, children have much more obvious signs of accidental magic. However, I knew from your mother that your aunt wasn't very fond of magic. So, when I placed you here, I put a temporary damper on your magic, not strong enough to stop it entirely but so that it wouldn't do anything overtly obvious or strong. It will be lifted the moment you enter Hogwarts." The old man smiled benevolently as if he hadn't just condemned himself to Harry's resentment.

It all made sense now. Why they called him freak. Why they wouldn't let him be friends with Merlin. Why sometimes aunt Petunia would look disgusted and almost afraid to touch him. Harry _was_ different to them. And not only that! The man had tried to block Harry's magic! He couldn't help but picture how many other times he could have managed to eat if his magic was at full strength!

" _You_ placed me here?" he asked the Professor, not bothering to hide the coldness in his tone. He felt reassured for a moment as Merlin turned an accusatory look on the man, as well. "You knew aunt Petunia hated magic – that they would hate _me_ – and you left me here?!"

The old man paused for a moment, as if only then realising his error. "Perhaps we should discuss this inside, away from the cold."

Harry shivered then, his body finally remembering that is was freezing and that he barely had a t-shirt covering him. He found himself being pulled into Merlin's side, and he basked in the warmth it brought him. Just that small action was enough to bring the scowl off his face, his smile coming through once more. The joy brought to him from the presence of his brother was so much stronger than the resentment he carried for this stranger who had decided to take him away.

"Let's go to Hogwarts then," Harry said briskly. He wanted to be away from this house. And he wanted something to eat. Preferable something with turkey.

The old man seemed to falter then. "I had thought we would simply go inside. There is much to explain, Harry my boy, to both you and your relatives. And, surely, you have belongings you would like to collect to take with you?"

He shook his head firmly and pressed himself further into Merlin's side. "There's nothing that's mine in that place, I just want to leave."

Harry was inordinately glad that Merlin was there with him. He tried to think what he would have done if this Professor had shown up by himself on Christmas day, announced himself as a wizard and that Harry was one too, told him he was the reason Harry was with the Dursleys in the first place, but that he was going to take him away. Harry might've shut the door on his face and stayed with the Dursleys out of pure spite. Well, maybe not. The Dursleys were pretty terrible, after all. But Harry was sure that he certainly wouldn't be as excited to leave as he was now. They said he was going to Hogwarts, which meant he'd be with Merlin. And there was nothing better than that.

"Very well," the Headmaster said with an unreadable tone. "Take this," he handed them a wooden comb, for some reason, "and it shall take you back to the safety of the castle. I shall stay a little while to explain things to your relatives." And at that moment, neither boy realised he had meant _both_ of their relatives.

"I believe that it is getting rather late, and I fear I shall be occupied here for a while. Perhaps a meeting tomorrow will be better suited to us all. Mister Emrys, I believe you know the way to the kitchens." His brother nodded. "Good. I think that young Harry might benefit from a good meal. And perhaps, ask one of the older students to transfigure him some clothes that might fit." Harry didn't really know what transfigure meant (though he remembered Merlin's letters talking about transfiguration class), but fitting clothes sounded nice.

After both boys nodded their understanding of the instructions, Merlin looking far more hesitant than Harry, the old man smiled and said, "Portus."


	13. The In-between

**Okay so this chapter is like 1000 shorter than I would usually publish. Basically, a lot of shit has been happening at home the last 2 months, which is why this chapter took so long to get out and why it's so much shorter. I was lacking any motivation to really finish it. I managed to scrounge up the energy to proof read it and decided to just post what I had and hoped and feedback I get will be enough to motivate me into writing the next one and get me back into enjoying writing. So sorry if this falls kinda short of what it usually is, I was originally gonna include a bunch more but that didn't really happen.**

 **Please enjoy and don't forget to vote in the poll**

 **Chapter 13 – The In-between**

Merlin felt warm and comfortable. Now this, in and of itself, wasn't an odd occurrence; he had gotten used to experiencing comfort when he first woke up. What _was_ an odd occurrence, was the heat of another person pressed against his side and a head resting on his shoulder. And now that he thought of hit, his left arm felt dead as well. The person next to him shifted slightly and burrowed further into his side.

Merlin was confused. Though he'd mostly managed to adjust to his new surroundings and could suppress a flinch when he could see the movement coming, he was certainly not used to sharing this level of personal space with anyone at Hogwarts. Not to mention that all of his friends had gone to their respective homes for the holidays, which meant there was a stranger sleeping on him. Only, he could never be so at ease with a stranger, even in sleep (especially in sleep - that's when a person is most vulnerable). The only person he had ever been so comfortable with was -

"Harry," he breathed the name, any lingering tension abandoning him as he recalled what happened yesterday, and relished in the closeness of his beloved brother. There was a small sniffle next to him, and the head moved from his shoulder to his chest, right over his heart.

Yesterday had been amazing. The portkey (he had asked the kitchen elves if they knew what the teleportation device was called, and after a brief description they were happy to inform him) had dropped him and Harry in Professor Sprout's office. She had teared up at the sight of them while Harry and Merlin exchanged confused glances, and then happily changed Harry's clothes for him, shrinking the garments in to something in his size and making them appear new and clean. Merlin had smiled, happy to see his Harry in something clean and fitting for the first time, but Harry had been stuck in a state of amazement and shock - both from the portkey and seeing a proper spell for the first time. Professor Sprout had indulged him his questions about the basics of magic, but had quickly bustled them towards the kitchen with an ashamed look when Harry's stomach rumbling had interrupted them.

Harry had been wary at first, when Merlin explain House Elves to him, but once he had seen them in action, overjoyed at being able to feed people and cook and clean, he had relaxed. Merlin had understood his reaction to hearing about an unpaid and thankless labour force, but was glad that Harry had been reassured by their happiness. Merlin made sure that he was feeling guilt-free when they brought them both a serving of turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy. The astounded look on Harry's face at being offered so much food had broken Merlin's heart a little bit, even if he knew that he had worn a similar expression a few short months ago.

In the end, Harry had been charmed by the House Elves, and they had both felt welcome enough to stay and talk in the kitchens for a few hours, rather than risk the common room where older students may be wandering about.

Merlin had gone into detail about everything that had happened in the last week or so: explaining his wish to go back it Surrey so that he could check on Harry ("Why the hell would you try and do something so stupid?! You're _safe_ here!" "But _you_ weren't!"), how his Head of House had refused to let him do so without a proper explanation ("She seemed really nice." "She is."), how the conversation and wound up revealing that Harry was a wizard ("That still doesn't seem real, y'know?" "It will soon. Hey! You can borrow my wand and try to learn some spells!" "Awesome!"), and his conversation with the Headmaster along with the revelation that even among wizards, Merlin was a bit of a weirdo and extremely rare ("So there's no one else like you?" "No, apparently not." "Well I could've told you that!").

Merlin wasn't sure that he had ever spent an evening doing so much laughing and smiling. His friends were amazing and kind and funny, but he could never be his whole self around them the way he could with Harry. And even still, this evening was a first for them. There previous time together had always been bitter-sweet - they both cherished the time they could spend together but they knew it came at a cost, and the price was always steep. But that night, they knew they had all the time in the world and no repercussions as long as they were back in the common room before curfew. There was a freedom to it that was so new and so incredible.

When they had made their way back to the Hufflepuff common room Merlin had been glad to find it empty, Harry had grinned at the brightly coloured walls and comfy sofas and the roaring fire place, and Merlin hadn't wanted to share that moment with anyone else.

Merlin had changed into his pajamas and lent some spare ones to Harry. The length was a little long on both the legs and the arms, but after rolling them up once or twice they fit perfectly. The two of them still shared an unnatural skinniness, so he knew that they didn't have to worry about the waistband being to loose or the top too baggy.

They hadn't stay in the dormitory long, just long enough to change, introduce Harry to Aithusa, and for Merlin to grab a book. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , it had been Gwaine's Christmas present to him and the moment he had seen it he had decided that he would pass it on to Harry once he had read it. But this was even better. Now they could read the children's stories that their parents might have read to them, to each other.

And so, they grabbed a cosy-looking blanket, sat themselves in front of the fireplace, and read children's fairy tales to each other that, in another life, they would have heard growing up.

It had been the perfect evening and the favourite Christmas that Merlin could ever remember having.

"Why is there a child in the common room?" a voice asked, bringing him back to the present where Harry was pressed firmly against his side.

Merlin looked up to find the prefect girl who had introduced herself as Tonks the day before. She was wearing spiky, hot pink hair today and was giving him a half amused, and half confused, look. He opened his mouth to explain and introduce Harry when a response piped up from his shoulder.

"We're in a school. I imagine that there's lots of children here," Harry said dryly. He then maneuverered himself so that he could look at Merlin while still resting against him and added, "Look, there's another one."

Tonks snorted and Merlin didn't bother to smother his grin. Apparently his brother was more sarcastic than usual when he first woke up in the morning.

"I like this one," Tonks commented lightly. "Wotcher! I'm Tonks, one of the prefects here, which is how I know you're not another firstie like Emrys, here. Not to mention the fact that you look about seven years old."

"I'm nine!" Harry told her indignantly while Merlin laughed at him.

"This is my little brother, Harry," Merlin told her.

"I'm not little!" He interjected, glaring lightly up at Merlin.

"Okay," Tonks said, _still_ looking both amused and confused, maybe even more so now, "That still doesn't explain why he's here. Nine or seven or whatever, he's not supposed to be at Hogwarts unless he's eleven, and I know for a fact that he wasn't here yesterday."

"Dunno," Harry said lazily, stretching out a bit like Aithusa would when waking up from a nap. "The old man came with Merlin yesterday to pick me up from my aunt and uncle's because it wasn't safe and told me I'd be staying in the castle from now one. I've only really seen here and the kitchens but it's really cool!"

Merlin saw Tonks's face tighten when Harry said 'it wasn't safe' but she hid it well behind a cheery grin. "Well," she said, "I've been here years, so I know all the cool secret passage ways!"

"There are secret passage ways?" Harry was sounding much more awake now, and Merlin chuckled softly at his excitement.

"What kind of magic castle wouldn't have secret passage ways? If you're sticking around, I'll show you some, short stuff!" She reached over to ruffle Harry's hair and Merlin held his breath. When no reaction came, other than an excited grin, Merlin breathed again. He had worried about the Dursleys taking their acts against Harry further without him knowing about it, being away at Hogwarts. But from Harry's reaction - or lack there of - Merlin was fairly confident that the only person who had tried to hit Harry had been his oaf of a cousin, Dudley. And that had been happening for years.

Tonks left after that, telling them that she was going to breakfast and that she would see them around later.

"C'mon," Merlin prompted, once she had gone, "We should have a shower and get changed, especially since Dumbledore told us he'd be speaking to us in the morning." He observed Harry pulling a face as soon as the headmaster was mentioned.

"I'm already here and settled now, do we really have to speak with him?" Harry asked, sounding put out.

While Merlin didn't particularly wish to speak with him either, he was fairly certain that it would be an important conversation. Students rarely spoke to the headmaster, from what he'd heard, unless they were in serious trouble or something important was going on. Merlin's own interactions with the man had only ever been about his his other magic, _magic of the Old Religion_ he had called it, and _that_ hadn't been heard of in centuries, so that certainly fit the criteria of important. But still, Merlin hadn't really felt completely at ease with him during their last conversation, so he was wary of subjecting himself and Harry to the man's attentions once again.

"He said he was going to speak to the Dursleys, so I'm sure that he has something important to tell you from that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nothing important can come from anything the Dursleys have to say."

Merlin smirked, "Maybe he just wants to tell us how he threatened them with magic and scared the hell out of them." That got him a small smile. "You never know, maybe he gave Dudley a pig's tail."

Harry dissolved into giggles, the mental image of his fat, bullying cousin with the tail of a pig being too much for him. Merlin smiled fondly at him, still not used to the fact that this is what their life would be from now on.

Just as Harry's laughter was tittering off, Merlin mimicked a pig snorting and it set them both off all over again. His cheeks hurt from smiling and, when he looked over to see tears of mirth in Harry's eyes, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Once they had calmed down a little, Merlin thought for a moment before saying, "He'll probably be sorting out where you'll be staying too. Hopefully he'll let you stay here with me, at least until everyone's back from their holidays. But I doubt you'll be allowed to stay the Hufflepuff basement forever; all the dorms are sorted by years and you haven't even been assigned a house, so who knows where they'll keep you."

Harry looked disappointed for a moment before rallying himself. "Anywhere is better than that cupboard," he said with certainty. "And where ever they put me, you'll visit."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but Merlin could hear the insecurity in his voice, so he reached out to answer him with a hug. Now that they were finally together, he wouldn't let anything separate them for long.

* * *

They ended up taking their breakfast in the kitchens. Even though Merlin promised him that the Great Hall would be mostly empty with everyone away for the holidays, Harry wanted to avoid all of the other students.

He was distinctly aware that he didn't belong here. As much as they told him he was a wizard, and as much as he believed them, there was still the fact that he was two years too young to be at Hogwarts. He was out of place here. Even down to the houses. Merlin told him that the first thing that happens when you get to the school was to be given a house (though he wouldn't tell him how it was decided). But Harry would remain houseless for the next two years until he was with his own year group. Here - in a place where you house was a part of your identity - Harry didn't have a place.

He didn't belong with the Dursleys, but he didn't belong here yet, either. It felt like he was stuck in-between.

Though that wasn't his only concerns about being there.

What about primary school? From what Merlin had told him, most of the wizard-raised kids didn't go to any sort of primary school, they were taught the basics of numeracy and literacy by their parents. But if Harry was going to be living in a school meant for people older than him, what was he supposed to do all day? All the adults here were teachers, but they had their own classes to teach.

Harry didn't need anybody to look after him, he had been left alone for most of his life, but the students here had Head of Houses that were responsible for them. Who was going to be responsible for Harry?

His first thought was Merlin. Merlin was his brother and had always tried his best to look out for him, but Merlin was only twelve, surely they wouldn't give him the burden that was Harry.

His second thought was much more troubling, The Headmaster. The man obviously had the power to place him and remove him from the Dursleys, and since he was the one who brought Harry to Hogwarts, then he must be the one in charge of him. Harry didn't like him. Harry didn't think he could like anyone who thought placing him with his uncle and aunt was a good idea.

Not that they were- The Dursleys weren't terrible. Harry wasn't an idiot and he knew that things could have been much worse for him if his uncle had been a bit more like Merlin's was. Harry knew that it wasn't normal to go so as long as he usually did without food, and he wasn't exactly fond of his cupboard, but that didn't make the Dursleys terrible. His uncle could get really angry sometimes. He would turn all purple and start shaking his meaty fists near Harry's head but he'd never actually hurt him. He had been rough once or twice when throwing him back in his cupboard, but he'd only ever gotten a bruise at most.

Harry knew terrible. Harry had spent years watching the results of terrible play out across his brother's skin. The Dursleys weren't terrible. But that didn't mean they were good, either. And Harry wouldn't trust anyone who thought otherwise.

So he really hoped that he was wrong, and that it wouldn't be the Headmaster who was in charge of him.

He wasn't able to worry about it for long though, because early into their breakfast an owl swooped down like Harry had seen them do whenever he had received Merlin's letters, and dropped a brown envelop in between the two of them before flying off. Harry didn't really understand how the owl had gotten in to a room with no windows and a door that hadn't opened, but he could say with certainty that magic was involved.

"It's from the Headmaster," Merlin said, having opened the letter and skimmed through it while Harry was still wondering about the owl. "He wants us to meet him in his office as soon as we're done with breakfast."

"Does it say what he wants to talk about?"

"Nah, it's pretty vague. It just says 'to discuss _arrangements'._ Probably just about where you're gonna sleep and things like that," Merlin answered with a shrug. "He told us he'd want to talk to us, so this is hardly a surprise."

"Well I'm sure it won't take them long to clean out a cupboard for me." Merlin sent him a sharp look. He had been trying to sound jokey about it. Harry was just trying to make the situation feel a bit more light-hearted, but his tone had ended up sounding bitter. He supposed it was hard to make a joke like that, when you were talking about the man that put you in that position in the first place.

"That's not gonna happen," Merlin said unwaveringly. "Not that I think they'd try to, but even if they did, I wouldn't let them. I can finally make a difference for you, I can finally take care of you, and I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like they did before."

Harry nodded. He'd known that. Deep down, he really had known that. But hearing it said out loud brought him a sense of relief that he didn't know he needed. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Harry realised that no one had ever promised to keep him safe before. Or, well, he had no memory of anyone promising to keep him safe. He liked to think that his parents would have, but that didn't matter, because he had Merlin now.

It didn't matter who they told him was in charge of him. Merlin was his brother, and he would be the only person Harry let himself listen to. It was different now. He wouldn't follow _whoever it was_ blindly, doing as they say so that he can sleep with some food in his stomach. Merlin could look after him now. Merlin could stop whoever decided to hurt him. And if he couldn't, well then Harry was a wizard too, he would just have to learn to protect himself.


End file.
